Almost
by savanasi
Summary: A trek home from Hogsmeade goes horribly awry for a one Hermione Granger. Rated for language and perhaps content later on. Some sort of romance will possibly bloom. And that's all you get, folks.
1. A Stumble in the Dark

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. All characters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling, all other are mine. All hail J.K. for giving us fodder to fuel our literary ambitions. Now, on with the show!

**Almost**

_By Savanasi_

The darkness cascaded down into the glistening streets of Hogsmeade. Rain dripped down gutters and sloshed along the edge of the road, drowning the enchanted village in murky waters that expelled an almost musical sound. The icicles still hanging from roof edges and sharp ledges twinkled dangerously in the twilight, the moon's aura glinting off of them. An ominous cloud of despair hung over the quiet scene, broken only by the hurried footsteps of a seventeen year old witch, desperately trying to make it back to Honeydukes before it closed.

The more intelligent third of the infamous golden trio, scampered along, clutching her books to her chest and muttering darkly about some event that had delayed her return to Hogwarts; and a wonderfully warm Hogwarts at that. Glancing about in the dense darkness, Hermione pulled out her wand and whispered a drying spell, attempting to keep her books away from the moisture in the air.

The moon slid behind a cloud and the roads were drenched in darkness for a long, quiet minute. As the seconds ticked slowly by, the thumping of several other pairs of shoes join the sound of Hermione's feet. These however, were much heavier boots and thudded along the wet street and then came to shocking stop about ten feet from her.

Hermione, thinking the boots a figment of her imagination or the echo of another waylaid student, continued down her path, cursing Harry and Ron for leaving their assignments till the last minute and not telling her that they couldn't join her in her excursion until well after nine.

The moon drifted back into view, and she huffed a soft sigh of relief at not having to stop and place everything down to dig in her robes for her wand. Unfortunately her luck ran out as the moon plunged permanently into the vast canopy of an approaching stratocumulus. Cursing vehemently at this new twist in her journey, she found a bench on the deserted street, placed her bags down, and began searching feverishly for her wand.

"Lumos."

The soft glow pulsed around her, bathing the surrounding foot and half in a sweet greenish light. But her relief was short lived as the footsteps returned this time, closer and then she smelt it: the dark odor of rotting flesh coupled with expensive cologne.

Death Eaters.

"Nox." Hermione whispered almost inaudibly, trying to make herself as discreet as possible, keeping the advantage of surprise on her side.

"Lucius, I understand the task, but why has the Lord sent only two of us to follow your son."

"Quiet, you fool! She may be dirty, but the girl is not stupid. She will hear you and then all will be for naught!"

The hushed voices grew a smidge louder before dropping off considerably into the darkness. Breathing in deeply, Hermione glanced towards the village, only to see heavy fog rolling down over mountains behind and creeping ever so slowly in her direction.

'_Great. Just bloody fabulous.'_

Shifting her books so that her wand was in her right hand and completely unhindered she cautiously made her way back onto the street. The lights of the shops were drawing nearer; only a few more steps.

And then she heard it: a soft groaning baritone breathing heavily in the bushes up ahead. Darting quickly towards the sound, Hermione approached the foliage with utmost caution, before a large, warm hand covered her mouth and another grasped her waist and yanked her backwards into the sodden leaves. She gasped under the hand, trying desperately to kick at her attacker only to be shushed by a soft, deep voice.

"Granger, stop moving. It's just me." Draco whispered, his soft, blond hair brushing against her cheek as he glanced around trying to see if they had been spotted. Satisfied with his search, he looked back down at the young woman in his arms before turning her roughly around and pulling her to the floor.

"Malfoy?" Hermione gasped, finally getting the ability to breathe properly back.

"Yes, now shut up and let me think."

"Mal-,"

"I said, shut up and let me fucking think, mudblood." He cut in, viciously cuffing her and then sending an irritated hand through his hair.

At this, Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and then she scampered backwards, trying to put as much space between them as possible. Gazing around, her eyes landed on a shoe, a very moldy old shoe.

Sparing a quick glance back at Draco, who was completely occupied by his incessant mutterings, she crept forward into the next range of bushes and had just reached the shoe when the footsteps started up in a quiet frenzy and then there was dead silence.

"Get up boy." A cold voice rang out in the darkness and Hermione watched as Draco rose up, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes narrowed in anger.

"What?" He demanded, his tone completely devoid of fear.

"Don't you dare 'what?' me Draco, I would've thought I had raised you better than that."

"_Father?_"

"I stopped being a father to you the day you betrayed our legacy."

There was a pause as Draco raised a single eyebrow at the man who was so many years his senior.

"Lower your wand, _Lucius_," he drawled, again feigning nonchalance.

Apparently Lucius's patience had worn thin and bare as he shoved his former son bitterly to the ground and then made use of the wand that had been waiting eagerly.

"_Crucio!_"

Hermione felt the hairs on her neck prickle in horror, as Malfoy began to shake and spasm as the pains shot through his body. The shock only lasted mere moments however, as she pulled herself together, grasped the shoe firmly in hand and then darted in to the center.

"_Expelliarmus!_" She cried, her voice breaking slightly but the fierceness never leaving it. Malfoy Senior's wand soared into the surrounding bushes and Draco immediately stilled before sitting up slowly. Hermione walked gingerly over to him and put herself in front of him.

"Don't touch him." Her voice wavered slightly; she switched her wand from Lucius to his apprentice and then back again.

"Oh look, the little mudblood thinks she can stop us. How quaint." Lucius sneered his face partially hidden in the shadows.

"Draco, grab my hand and run." Hermione whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes watching the two death eaters suspiciously. She waited a moment before extending her hand and helping a considerably larger and heavier Draco up.

And then they ran.

Draco dashed forward, years of Quidditch finally being put to practical use as he jumped through the shrubbery and moved impossibly fast away from the death eaters. Hermione panted and pushed to keep up and was managing supremely well until a fateful upturned root got in her way, and sent her tumbling ungracefully to the forest floor. The crash ignited a series of multicolored flashes of light as the two death eaters, hot on their trail, fired to the best of their ability, hoping to hit their prey on a lucky shot.

Draco had come to stop the moment he heard the crash and looked back over his shoulder at her. His eyes widened as he saw her grimace in pain and attempt to get up before crumbling to the floor. She looked up at him, a shadow of fleeting hope passing across her face, her eyes twinkling slightly in the dark. His heartbeat quickened as he saw his father coming up behind her, spells erupting from his wand. He lowered his gaze and met her eyes, and he saw her eyes cloud over in pain. She blinked rapidly for a second and then closed her eyes and slumped down defeated. His body turned as he considered his options, realizing the ramifications of being caught now.

Her face flashed before him, the look of sheer will power in her eyes as she sprang from the bushes only moments before to save him. And that should have been all it took.

In fact, he almost turned back to save her.

_Almost._


	2. Cornered

**Disclaimer**: All belongs to the J.K. Rowling, don't sue me, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. The first chapter title was inspired by an FOTR chapter title, ten points and a big gold star if you guess which one. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Sorry about the delay!

**Chapter Two: Cornered**

_By Savanasi_

The dust rose into the air behind Draco, his feet pounding in the night. The vision of his receding back cloaked in the moonlight was all that Hermione could see as she lay on the floor. She shut her eyes, replaying his face as he had turned. His eyes had been so calculative, shrouded in anxiety and worry. But for a moment she had thought he would come back for her. She had thought he would save her. And then he had kept running, as she knew he would, as he knew he should.

A crunch behind her forced her eyes open and a chilling panic took over her body. She felt her body tremble in sudden fear, as she realized she had no idea how close the death eaters were. Twisting her body, she managed to sit up.

The woods were empty.

The darkness swarmed around her, its thick, palpable nature submerging her and drowning her in a creeping fear. She gasped for air suddenly, feeling herself losing consciousness as the pain in her ankle soared to an unbearable height. Hermione's mind went fuzzy, her eyes swimming in tears. And then a crunch sounded in the distance. And then another and another until they became incessant, blurring into a single forbidding sound of inescapable, imminent death.

She was shocked into panic mode and her mind instantly sprang back into its generally meticulous form, calculating carefully every possible method of escape. The footsteps pounded closer. She desperately tried to bring herself upright but it was to no avail as she slipped back down the minute she had gotten there. Her hands clutched at the leaves around her, searching and searching for anything to use as a weapon. But as her luck went, only a sea of pointless leaves that couldn't dent cotton candy, let alone the human body surrounded her.

Her wand lay meters away having been flung from her hands upon contact with the ground. Just as she had given up hope on finding a weapon, logic kicked in and she realized she had forgotten all about her wand.

_That_ happened far too often for her liking.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione uttered a soft "_Accio_" charm and grabbed her wand firmly in her right hand. She felt far more secure with magic on her side, but she was still trembling from the pain and the cold of the dark night.

The footsteps, which until now had been building to a stupefying frenzy stopped. All that was left was an eerie quiet. And then through the silence came a very perceptible and chilling noise.

A breath.

A heavy, panting breath _right_ behind her.

Hermione shrieked and leapt into the air, her body squirming in pain as she hobbled to her feet, leaning against a stump that had miraculously appeared. One hand still holding on vehemently to the moldy old boot she had found by Malfoy.

"Ah, my dear Miss Granger. What might you be doing, so far into the forbidden forest? I do hope you are not being followed by anything…_sinister_."

"I'm not afraid of you, Lucius." Hermione's voice quivered, but her eyes met his gaze dead on.

"I would very much like to disagree, mudblood." Lucius circled her, his wand on a direct, one-way path to her temple, the perfect position for the killing blow.

"What do you want from me?"

"Where is Draco?" Lucius sneered.

"Do you honestly expect me to tell you?"

Lucius jabbed forward with his wand, his movements precise and calculated. He stepped closer, his robes whispering against the foliage on the ground. The ornately carved wand traced an outline of Hermione's neck and head. She took an unconscious step back, her breath catching. Lucius Malfoy was nothing, if not intimidating. Hermione's hand moved carefully behind her, repositioning her grasp on her wand. But her slight movement was caught and Lucius cast a body binding charm.

"Watch that hand, Miss Granger. I'm not in a mood to be toyed with." Lucius's dark odor washed over her, and she internally cringed, but her body, stuck, stagnated was unable to flinch away from him. He placed a polished wand tip at the base of her throat, pushing into the soft skin with a resolute and cruel jab.

"I will not ask you again, Miss Granger. Where is Draco?"

He whispered a hushed incantation and her mouth was freed from its magical prison. She licked her lips carefully, and then pursed them. Draco Malfoy may not have saved her, but there was obviously a reason that his father was after him. And if Malfoy was an enemy to his considerably more evil and potent father, then he was on her side, or at the very least in the same hemisphere as her. She took a deep breath, knowing she would regret this final move, and then gracefully spat in Lucius's eye.

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew-" Hermione started to speak but was cut off when the wand precariously placed at the surface of her neck was viciously pushed into her windpipe alongside a spell muttered under Lucius's breath. She started chocking the world around her swimming in darkness. Her breaths came in gasps as she tried to remain conscious. But her efforts were to no avail as Lucius, his wand, and his crony faded as she fell to the floor.

* * *

Several hundred yards away, Draco Malfoy fell panting against a gnarled tree trunk. His hands, sweaty from his run, reached into his blond locks, pulling angrily against the baby soft hair. His eyes were narrow and focused, calculating his next maneuver and forcing his thoughts away from the injured witch he left behind.

He had to get back to Hogwarts, it was imperative that he relay the information he had to McGonagall. He itched his forearm nervously; he was running out of time, and he knew it. Glancing about, he desperately sought the portkey he had been left. His wand lay uselessly in his left hand. Any spell now would be like a flare shot in the dark, the enemy would be watching for signs of magic. So he was left to non-magic methods of finding that damn portkey. But nothing, absolutely _nothing_ besides foliage littered the path before him. He couldn't have missed it, could he?

His arms felt around in the darkness, moving quickly and quietly, realizing that despite the emptiness of his surroundings, danger was never far in times such as these. Vigilance, constant vigilance was the law that reigned. But lost in his thoughts, Draco failed to hear the snap of a twig that his normally trained ears would have picked up without fail.

His gaze was locked on the forest floor, scanning and rescanning the grounds for a sign. He was sure this clearing had to be the location of his portkey. The note had specified that the transportation device would be left at one of the two sites. The first he had run into Granger with, and despite her minor disturbance he was sure he would have seen it. Unfortunately, he hadn't, which only left this clearing in the wood to secure his safety.

But there was nothing. And unless the stupid git who had left the note had transfigured a bloody tulip into a portkey, he was out of luck. He drew himself up; realizing that staying to long in any location was not worth the risk. He had almost been caught once, (and here, his mind pushed resolutely passed the vision of Granger saving him), and there was no way he would repeat that mistake.

Draco cast another furtive glance about him and then resolutely stood up. His dark robes swam around his lean form, the Slytherin Head Boy badge glinting dangerously in the moonlight. He had left Hogwarts a mere two days before and yet the time felt like a lifetime. He could remember back when it was all so simple, before Dumbledore had died, before he had received the note that would change his life. But before his mind could take an ill-timed trip down memory land, Draco felt himself slipping back into reality.

The cold wind pierced his fine wool outer garments, seeping in through his pores and burying itself in the dark recesses of his heart. It prodded and pricked, and he his mind created a vision of the only other Hogwarts student stuck out here. But before the alien feeling of guilt could settle over him, he heard a noise that made his skin prickle.

A hiss, a soft, deadly hiss moving through the grass.

Nagini.

_Oh fuck._


	3. A Departure, An Arrival and

Disclaimer: Ah, you know the drill. Not mine. Don't Sue. So, silly me, I forgot to come up with a plot, which is my explanation/excuse for not updating sooner. But no fear, plot is ready and waiting to be written now, and it should be a fairly long ride. Reviews rock, thanks, y'all. You keep me motivated! Now, without further ado, I present the next installment.

**Chapter 3: A Departure, An Arrival, and A Little Bit of Back Story**

_By Savanasi_

Lucius Malfoy had always prided himself on being a sensible man. He had had his share of adventure and excitement and had always kept his head. This was a quality he prized about himself. But there was only so much a man could take.

He had been on his wretched son's trail for the past three days, and then had caught him moments before only to lose him again. And then that _mudblood_. That filthy, _mudblood_ had the audacity to talk back to him; to stand up before him and deny him his right, his pureblood right to command her. He was furious. If these muggles thought they could enter his world and keep their ludicrous ideas of equality, and self worth then they had another thing coming. Oh no, Lucius Malfoy would see to it, that this bushy-haired witch understood the meaning of pain.

And just as he had begun upon this noble quest: a quest handed to him by his ancestors who were purer than snow, than the Merlin-be-damned, _bloody_ snow, she disappeared.

She _fucking_ disappeared.

One minute his wand was causing beautifully irrevocable damage to her untarnished neck and then the next, he was shoving his wand into the cold, barren ground.

And that was when he lost it.

He screeched into the night, his despair ringing through the dusty trees and echoing across the tumbling hills. The veins in his neck grew thick and pulsated almost visibly.

Behind him, his partner moved back, visibly shaken from the events transpiring before him. Lucius turned to him suddenly, his fine hair falling into his eyes, which were blazing in anger.

"You. What did you do? You helped her didn't you? You are on _their_ side." With each heavy panted breath and phrase Lucius drew closer, his dark robes swirling about him in a fit. The other death eater shrank back, his wand grasped in his shaking hands.

"What? Lu-Lucius, you have to believe me, I know not what you mean! _Whose_ side?"

"_Their_ side, you're helping Draco, aren't you?" By now Lucius was within a hairs-breadth of his companions face, his hot breath flooding the others nostrils. The younger man tried to move away but Lucius clawed fingers grasped his cloak and pulled him closer.

"_You've_ been on their side this whole time, have you not?"

And before the rapidly paling companion could reply, could even begin to defend his innocence, a flash of green light flooded the woods. The young man fell first to his knees and then to the side, eyes wide open in terror and left hand still grasping his wand.

He was dead.

Lucius Malfoy tossed a crazed smirk in his direction before vanishing with a soft crackle.

There would be _hell_ to be pay now.

* * *

Draco's wand stretched out before him, pointed directly at the snake that circle him slowly, growing progressively closer. She seemed to ignore his weapon, gliding here and there with a distinct aloofness. He shifted his wand with her every movement, knowing that at any moment she could strike. But she never did. She just circled, growing closer and closer with each pass.

Draco was stuck in a circle of death, his only escape upward into the sky, or down through the earth. Neither of these options seemed possible at the immediate future. So he was pretty much _fucked_.

His robes fluttered wildly in the wind that was growing stronger, being blown this way and that with the tremendous gusts. As the wind pushed, his strong outline held in the night, creating quite the figure: a single, tall, lean form, standing on a hilltop surrounded by the ominous clouds above and encircled by death.

But it appears Draco's moment of reckoning would be delayed, if only for a short while. Nagini who had previously been growing ever closer, suddenly stopped in her traces. Her head drew upwards, the scales still writhing as her head swayed in the wind. It appeared she was listening. And then whatever ghostly voice the wind had carried to her ears seemed to have been silenced as she resumed her path.

Draco's eyes followed her closely, and then widened in surprise, the deep gray pools focused on the snakes precise and calculated movements.

He had expected her to strike at any moment now. She had been circling for some time now and any minute she would take the opportunity to raise her majestic head, and inject him with her deadly juices.

But instead she drew away suddenly as if being called away. Her glistening scales squirmed under the harsh moonlight peaking through the clouds. And then with a final rustle she disappeared.

Draco's blood ran cold. Only one living soul could command Nagini, could draw her away from her prey in such a manner. Even first years fresh off the proverbial muggle boat knew this. This could only mean one thing.

Lord Voldemort had arrived.

* * *

_Three days prior…_

Hermione Granger, laden down with books, as usual, wandered into the Heads suite. She staggered to her room, and then, after carefully placing her books on the dresser, collapsed onto her bed.

It had been a long day. A _very _long day.

Sighing to herself she began to recall the days events, beginning with breakfast when Hedwig had dropped a letter from Hagrid for Harry in her cereal and then proceeded to leave fourteen owl feathers in her hair. Not one, oh no, not even two. But _fourteen_!

And it only got worse.

Then during charms she fell asleep, and of course that was when Professor Flitwick though it would be amusing to cast a Distintegration charm on her and she promptly fell through the table, through her chair and onto the floor. She would have gone further but luckily Flitwick tumbled off his stack of books at that precise moment and his wand was knocked from his hand.

Was that it? Oh no. There was more. There was always more.

She then proceeded to trip during lunch, taking down an entire line of first years and landing a detention from Snape for being irresponsible. Oh yes, because she had made the _irresponsible _decision to trip against her better judgment. Good one, Professor Snape. Way to mask your favoritism with a display of such amazing subtlety.

Then she went to the library to study and finish her homework for so that her patrolling the corridors with Malfoy tonight would not set her study schedule off. But three days of very little sleep decided to kick in then and she had fallen asleep missing dinner and not completing any of the assignments that were due a fortnight from tomorrow. How would she ever keep herself on the right track if she allowed such lack-a-daisical behavior?

Now, here she was, twenty minutes before patrolling duties, starving and ridiculously behind on her schoolwork. What on earth was she to do? She let out another hefty sigh and then closed her eyes.

"Granger, you're unnecessarily loud sighing is disturbing my concentration. Try to keep it down will you? I know you're in a huff, but really the world does not revolve around you." Draco Malfoy's deep voice infiltrated her room from the doorway.

She raised her head slightly and gave him a quick glare accompanied by her specialty, a well-timed and highly successful raise of her right eyebrow; it scared the living daylights out of most underclassman.

Draco merely pursed his lips and continued.

"Are you ready to go patrol now? I mean I know you need to catch up on your beauty sleep but perhaps it could wait 'til after we ensured the safety of our classmates. Good lord, Granger, you're supposed to be the good, responsible one. Just last week you yelled at me for being half a minute late and here you are lounging about while chaos could be taking over the halls. Our classmates could be revolting out there and you're taking a nap. Bloody hypocrite."

"Oh shut it, Malfoy, I'm coming. Besides our patrol time doesn't start for another eighteen minutes and you were half an hour late last week, not half a minute."

"Details, details." Draco tossed his impossibly fine hair out of his face, and stood up from his position leaning against her door.

He turned and walked out, leaving behind a frustrated Head Girl. Hermione got up gingerly from the bed, purposefully taking her time to put her books away just to annoy him. He was so arrogant, and speaking of being presumptive, how on earth had he heard her sighing from across the common room.

The head suite was arranged so each head had a bedroom and a bathroom to themselves and then a small but cozy living room that doubled as a study area between them. There was even a small dining table to seat four. They had the privilege of having meals served in their rooms because Head duties in addition to their respectively heavy workloads did mean that most meal times would be missed for one reason or the other.

Hermione brushed the thought from her mind, figuring that Malfoy had either been at her door since she walked in, a thought she discarded immediately and with a shudder, or had such been his assuming, prick-like self and decided to come annoy her with his ridiculous stipulations. She most definitely preferred that explanation.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that she was indeed half a minute late now.

Oh, the irony. Malfoy would give her hell now.

She walked out into the foyer and then gave another exaggerated sigh in what she thought was his general direction and then tapped her foot in annoyance. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Typical.

Well, she couldn't risk another detention so she stepped outside, her wand held firmly in her right hand and then began patrolling. If Malfoy got caught, that would be his problem.

But she didn't have to go far without him. In fact, just as she rounded the corner, Malfoy appeared, a letter in his hand and paler than she'd ever seen him. He was shaking, and running a hand through his hair, eyes wide and if she could be so bold, a hint of fear intermingling with the gray.

"Malfoy?"

Draco's head shot up, and he instantly hid the note in his robes and then nodded his head at her, face closing up tightly.

"What, Granger?" His voice was dulled, lacking its usually playful edge. And the ever present string of insults. McGonagall had been decidedly strict in her no-nonsense voice, (the one that even Fred and George would listen to. Well…sometimes listen to,) when she had informed them that any sign of violence, or petty fighting between the two of them and they could kiss their head's badges goodbye. She had made it _very clear_ that her replacement list was bursting with potential and only a swish and flick of her wand away. Thus, while the two kept up their banter, letting insults fly back and forth, the edge that was found during their younger days,( or more accurately, last year,) was gone. Instead it was replaced with a playful, teasing sort of camaraderie that she wouldn't call friendship, but at the same time felt comfortable.

"Are you…Is anything the matter?" Hermione glanced up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of the fear she'd seen a minute ago but his face was completely devoid of emotion.

"I'm fine." His words were spoken tightly and abruptly and he looked slightly annoyed, as if explaining to a toddler why paste was not to be eaten for the umpteenth time. Not that he'd ever heard of glue but the analogy worked in her mind.

" Are you posi-"Hermione was cut off.

"Yes, now let's move. I don't have all night." He briskly took off; his long legs striding quickly down the hallway. Hermione huffed in annoyance at his indifference toward her and then hurried down to catch up with him.

He may have feigned nonchalance, but she knew that something in that letter had made him shake. Malfoy had been cowardly in his younger days, but he seemed to have changed this summer: his swagger seemed less false, his confidence more justified, his smirk accompanied by a slightly more dangerous glint in his eyes. Like he knew he could hurt you but was holding back purely for the sake of avoiding expulsion.

These days, very little put that hint of fear she'd seen in his eyes. And if it had been enough to shake him to the point of not taking an opportunity to poke fun at her when she'd inquired after his well being, then something must be seriously wrong.

Thus, while she put if off for now, Hermione Granger decided there and then that she would figure out what was bothering him. After all, such matters would only distract him from his Head's duties and she could not have that.

A soft voice in her nagged that perhaps she might be just the smallest bit worried for him, but she silenced it with another one of her famous sighs and then shook her head as if to rid it of the rebellious thought.

The day _she_ worried about Draco Malfoy's peace of mind was the day Lord Voldemort started prancing about in a pink leather corset.


	4. The Trials and Tribulations of

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't Sue.

Author's note: So, apologies for the delay, but I've been reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, (which was excellent!), much like y'all have been and it has taken some time to adapt to the fact there will be not more Harry Potter books for me to eagerly anticipate. Alls well that ends well, I suppose. Anyhow, I haven't decided how much of book seven will be integrated into this story. The ending however, will not be, as the ending will be completely of my own creation. Now as for the timeline, the story still exists in _three days prior _and time will flow forward from here for sometime. There are certain elements of the story that need to be revealed before we can flash forward to the predicament that Draco has found himself in with Lord Voldemort. That being said, I present the next installment, that should hopefully shed a little more light on the whole situation, and perhaps leave behind a few more questions that need to be answered.

**Chapter 4: The Trials and Tribulations of Hermione Granger**

The two heads walked wearily back to the common room, their hands in their pockets and neither spoke a word. The patrols tonight had been empty, usually their petty arguments made the arguments go by faster, but today the two were silent, contemplative almost.

Once they entered the dorms, Hermione pausing for Draco to mumble the password, an oddly chivalrous gesture on his part, and then raised her eyebrows in surprise that he actually waited for her to enter the room.

But it appeared that his façade of decency was actually masking the fact that he was lost in thought. Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face and he jerked up, eyes meeting hers for second and she caught that same elusive glint of fear that had appeared earlier. And then he seemed to realize what he was doing, and his eyes narrowed accusingly, as if she had forced him to reveal what he was thinking. He frowned patronizingly at her and then brushed passed her into the common room, and then into his room, slamming his door with an unnecessarily loud thump that, Hermione had a feeling, was aimed at her.

She dwindled by the fire for a second, contemplating what could have put that look there. He had had a few odd gleams in his eyes this year. She had given them some thought and then categorized them.

There was the early morning gleam, almost apologetic, but it disappeared within an instant of his seeing her and would not reappear until the next morning.

Then there was the contemptible gleam, which appeared in the evenings mostly, usually after she'd done something to frustrate him, which wasn't exactly difficult considering his volatile, sarcastic personality. It was almost a, "you have no idea what I could do to you" sort of sentiment. Cliché, she supposed, but very true.

Next came the lack of gleam, when his eyes were impenetrable, not friendly, and not exactly civil but they lacked any hostility. That was the category she placed him in most often, when he was distant but comfortable, when a semblance of familiarity lingered about them. Like expired bread, it was past it's prime, and inedible, but the mere fact that it was there, filling a bit of your fridge felt…well just like Malfoy's presence she supposed. The way she felt about him was above tolerating but definitely far below friendship. An equal partnership of sorts seemed the best way to describe them.

But this new gleam, this sudden fear in his eyes, this was new. This skittishness, this nervous tremor that popped into his eyes was frightening. It meant that something was happening on the other side. Draco Malfoy may have been a good leader, to whom the "superior" half of the school listened to, but a good _person_ he was not. He was not on their side. And that was to be remembered at all costs, part of the reason she watched him so carefully.

The were an incongruous pair, her a cavern of untold secrets which ranged from the latest schedules for the D.A. to snippets of order plans which she'd picked up here and there, and Draco Malfoy the son of one of Voldemort's greatest allies, and a sniveling snitch to boot.

He was dangerous.

And there was no way to change that.

It was an oddball pair for Heads that Dumbledore had picked and left in his notes for Minerva McGonagall to assign, but his sense of the future was potent at the very least. So she, admittedly difficultly, believed that the pairing held some higher purpose, some reason that would be revealed when this was all over. And until then, all she could do was to bide her time and watch. Watch his every move so that if his allegiance issued him a call to arms she could do _something_. That's all anyone could do now. Watch and wait.

Someone had to make a move, and someone would make a move soon. Her side was broiling, gathering up allies and making connections to form a steady foundation and a united front for when the time came for the final battle. The other side was ready, teaming with followers and power, and gaining said power by the second.

It was all matter now of who would make the first move and begin the final battle.

Thus all anyone could do was wait. All she could do was wait.

And watch. Watch for any sign of change, for any sign of the impending apocalypse. She wearily slunk down on the sofa, lying back for a few moments to gaze pensively into the fire and rest before returning to her bedroom to begin her studies for the night. Unfortunately, her tiredness from earlier decided to make a second appeareance and before too long, she drifted off.

* * *

The fire had dwindled down to a sorry state, the embers feebly glowing every now and then, casting a whisper of warmth in the room every now and then. Hermione sat buried in the sofa that lingered before the fire, curled up under one of the many blankets the two kept down there. Her small form shivered slightly in the tepid air of their common room, and she burrowed deeper into the woolen blanket in her sleep.

Across the room, a great silver and green banner rustled as the door beneath opened and shut softly. Draco Malfoy stepped into the room, covered in his winter cloak and his wand in hand. He headed carefully towards Hermione's room, his footsteps falling silently across the floor.

Placing the tips of his fingers on the door, he pushed it open, leaning in to take a quick glance. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as his gaze wandered over the still made bed, and her book bag in the corner of her room where it normally hung. Her room looked untouched. A twinge of panic raced through him, his eyes darting here and there. Where could she have gone? He needed her. He needed to see her before he left.

Shoving a fist, in a frustrated manner, into the door, Draco cursed under his breath. And then he heard a soft sighing noise from the common room. Turning on his freshly polished heel, he walked into the room and saw her dazed look, clearly having just woken up at the sound of his fist pounding the door.

"Draco?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, mellowed out with sleep and he felt almost as if he had to suppress a shiver at the sound of it. Discarding such a rebellious notion, Draco walked towards her.

"Thirsty, Granger?" His voice sounded strangely hopeful, as he produced a goblet of water from his wand and placed it gently on the end table by the sofa.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, before narrowing in suspicion. The earlier familiarity she had shown by referring to him by his first name evaporated and a pulsing tension diffused throughout the room.

"Not quite." Her tone was clipped and she got up, stumbling tiredly for a second before regaining her composure and walked towards her bedroom.

A strong hand grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards. She resisted casually, internally wincing at the fact that her wand was on the couch in the pocket of her robes.

"I think you are." Draco replied forcefully. His fingers clenched around her forearm, bruising the delicate skin, which she was sure would have a finger pattern that would be difficult to explain. Despite the fact that she had been assigned the duty of monitoring Malfoy's behavior, she had a feeling the position was not going to be as painless as Ron and Harry had thought when they'd 'oh-so-cleverly' attempted to put her out of harms way. Oh no, she had a feeling she'd have to be incredibly careful.

"Stop manhandling me Malfoy. Even if I was thirsty, I wouldn't drink whatever it is in that goblet, that you're trying to pass off as water." Hermione wriggled but despite her most valiant efforts she couldn't break free of his ever-tightening grip.

"Granger, if I were you I would shut up and do as you're told." Hermione turned, her eyes sparkling dangerously in the dim firelight.

"And if I were you I would unhand me _this_ instant." Her voice rose to a dangerous squeak and with a final wrench she got her arm free and then, after taking a quick detour to the couch to grab her robes and her wand, she locked herself in her bedroom.

Grasping the wood tightly between her fingers, Hermione paced once back to the window seat on the furthest corner of her bedroom and then back to the door. Malfoy had that threatening glint in his eyes, except she had a forbidding feeling that the threat was no longer casual. She had this irritating voice at the back of her head that uttered caution after caution, warning her that she wasn't safe. She felt a familiar terror rise through her body, as she heard Malfoy sighing through the door, before taking a deep breath. Something was about to happen. And she was sure as hell that she was going to do everything in her power to stop it. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.

Draco huffed in annoyance. Leave it to a Mudblood to make things difficult for him. He was getting tired of this routine that they had been locked in for so long. Sure he was aiding his cause, but he'd rather be out fighting for his beliefs, to maintain his position in the world. Pulling out his wand, he muttered softly to himself before making an intricate motion towards her door and watched in immense satisfaction as it flung itself open.

His gaze rose to meet Hermione's and they stared at each other for a second, her wand targeting his throat and his laying casually by his side. Her brown eyes widened in surprise but a certain steely determination was radiating out from her. His jaw clenched as his penetrating gray eyes scrutinized her stance. Her shirt had been partly unbuttoned, the tie hanging loosely from the collar. The crinkled material was almost like cellophane in the moonlight spilling through her window. Her skirt brushed the top of her legs, which were firmly placed on the ground, echoing the resolve that her eyes communicated. He felt a slight trip in his stomach at the sight of her, a soft pulse of warmth rose from his stomach to his throat and he felt a sharp pang of something. He wasn't sure what it was. It felt oddly like remorse. He smirked inwardly, like he could ever feel bad for using and abusing _Granger._

He continued his perusal of her body, the corners of his mouth turning up as he saw her shiver in displeasure, and she glared at him; challenging him to make some sort of lewd comment. But what drew his gaze was the nervous fidget in her left hand. She was grasping the side of her skirt in desperation, the knuckles turning white from the effort of holding herself together. He realized she wouldn't attack first. And that was why he knew his side would win.

Her side never attacked first. They were always on the defensive. But in the civil war that was ripping apart the wizarding world, only aggressive strategy and behavior would win out.

He was willing to do whatever was in his power to get what he wanted. But her? No. Oh, no, she would wait; she would wait until the last possible moment, until she was absolutely sure that there was nothing redeemable about him to attack him. And so he would always win. Because he would never wait that long, he would never give her the chance to fight back. He would never fight fair. There was glory in fighting for justice and with justice, but power, real power was found only in fear. And making other's fear him was nothing if not, Draco Malfoy's specialty.

With a decisive toss of his head, he whipped his wand in her direction and uttered a single word that sent goose bumps over every inch of Hermione's body.

"_Imperio._"


	5. Imperio

Disclaimer: Oh dear it has been a while, hasn't it? In my defense, the first year of college was certainly more intense that I had imagined. Who knew that teachers could give you so much homework! In any case, I'm on summer break now and I have every intention of finishing this story. On the off chance that there are still people interested in reading this story, I humbly present the next installment. My next update should come _much_ sooner. Do review; I'd love to know what you think! :)

* * *

**Previously…**

With a decisive toss of his head, he whipped his wand in her direction and uttered a single word that sent goose bumps over every inch of Hermione's body.

"_Imperio._"

* * *

_**Imperio**_

There are moments in our lives where we regret our past actions, regret forgetting an assignment, harsh words spoken out of haste and not out of truth and the like. For Hermione Granger, such a moment or revaluation, was upon her. She regretted ever second where she had undermined him, where she had thought that Draco Malfoy would offer her a fighting chance. But no, he was a dirty, cheating ferret. And she was about to suffer the consequences of that fact and her own naivety.

But then she felt the cooling waves of mental subjugation calm her mind and dull her senses and she was floating, her mind pleasantly meandering along a path of nothingness. Her face relaxed, the big doe eyes fluttering downwards so that she looked heavy-lidded and her mouth turned up slightly into a bemused smile. Her right hand once firmly gripping her wand dropped to her side, her fingers falling open and relinquishing their precious burden.

Draco lowered his wand slightly, his eyes scanning her mitigated form, before brushing down his robes carefully; face blank of the emotions that were kept under lock and key. Then with a calm he did not necessarily feel, he began upon their nightly routine that for the first time, she might actually remember.

"State your name and your purpose in life."

"Hermione Granger. To serve the order."

Her mind twitched; there was something the matter here. '_No,' _another voice in her head claimed,' _this is private. Don't come here.'_

"What is Harry Potter's purpose?"

'_Why does he care? Should I tell him?'_ A breeze flickered through her mind, reassuring her that it was okay. That she was expected to obey. That she _needed_ to obey. It was just so easy, then he could stop bothering her and she could go back to floating. '_yes, that sounds lovely. I think I will tell him.'_ And then another little perturbing thought bubble popped, and she felt the cloud of calm slip for a second.

'_What am I doing? Harry needs to be kept safe, I have to fight this, this is _Draco Malfoy_.'_

And suddenly she remembered why she was here. And she experienced a moment of startling clarity.

"No." The sound came out wrenched and with a great deal of effort but she felt infinitely more confident once it was out. The airiness started to seep in and she felt herself succumbing once more to the blissful emptiness.

"I will give you another chance, Granger. But only because I have to live with you." A soft smirk angled his lips but a desperate gleam whispered through his eyes when he saw her scrunch her own for a second, and then ever so slowly shake her head.

She always fought it. He had never met anyone who continued to fight but then again, every time was like the first time for her. He devised this aspect to avoid her building up immunity to the curse. Her mind was so strong that each time she fought sooner and harder but eventually she would bend to his will. Everyone had a price, and for a girl whose heart was solid gold, a _mudblood_ with far too much compassion in her life, that price was fairly easy to come by.

"What is Harry Potter's purpose?"

She could do this, she was sure of it. She could fight this. All she had to do was shake her head again. But that would be so much work, such a hassle; it would be so much easier to just comply. Oh yes, it would.

'_No! I can do this. I have to do this.'_

"No." She growled, her fists clenched, her fingernails carving delicate crescents into her palms.

"Merlin, you just like to make it hard on yourself don't you?" He breathed, his face inches from hers and his wand placed delicately on her jugular.

Her body convulsed, unused to the mental anguish within her, but she fought desperately to say one more thing.

"Bite me." And then she let herself sink back into the bliss before it was harshly vanquished and replaced by white, hot fire.

"_Crucio_." His voice clenched at the end and his arms twitched to catch her when she fell to the floor her body writhing in pain, but he held them back. She brought this upon herself he chanted, fighting the guilt.

And then he saw tears pouring down her face, her eyes darkening in misery. And he stopped; he couldn't take it anymore. Even he had a breaking point. His father knew that all too well. Before he could dwell on his past, he resurfaced and began the tedious process again.

"_Imperio._"

"State your name and your purpose"

"Hermione Granger. To serve the order."

And so they would continue, until the early waves of dawn when he would heal her wounds to hide evidence of their activities. She never told him much, always fighting, but small snippets of truth he managed to retrieve from her mind were passed on swiftly and silently to his father to help the cause of purity.

She would hiccup into sleep slowly but surely and then when he was sure that she had passed out from exhaustion he would whisper one final word.

"_Obliviate_."

* * *

**The Next Morning…**

Hermione Granger arose from her bed, neck cramped and body oddly sore. She searched her memory back to the day prior and frowned as she recalled falling asleep on the couch but no more afterwards. Thinking she must have woken up between her sleep cycles and deposited herself on her bed half awake, she rationalized the loss of memory before getting up for the day. And then something caught her eye. Her school shirt from yesterday, wrinkled beyond belief in the warm light of the morning sun, had slipped from her shoulder. In its wake were five small imprints. Five small imprints, that is, in the shape of a hand, holding her down. She shivered suddenly. What had happened last night?

This had happened before, a week or so ago, she had woken up with a large bruise on her side, but she had dismissed it casually, thinking she must have bumped into something during her daily activities.

Dismissing it from her mind as she glanced at the time, she let out a light squeal. She was going to be late; as it was she would already have to forgo breakfast if she hopped to reach her classes in any semblance of the order she usually kept about her person. Stripping down, she wrapped a towel firmly around herself before moving into her private bathroom that was connected to her room by means of a light brown door.

The mirror caught her attention and to her horror she saw another bruised handprint on her upper arm. Something, or _someone, _had attacked her last night. But, who? Showering and dressing quickly she ran to her first class and pushed the subject out of her mind until she had time to inspect it closer. The end of school was drawing alarmingly close and Hermione Granger would rather die than see her grades fall anywhere below perfection.

* * *

**Four Hours Later…**

The brilliant orange of Ronald Weasley's hair burned bright in the afternoon sun and called out like a beacon to Hermione in the great hall. She pulled her bag up higher, wincing slightly as the bag brushed her bruises. Her footsteps hastened as she drew closer and then sat down with an impatient sigh as she noticed her best friends, the oh-so oblivious Harry Potter and the oh-so incompetent (she did love them both, _really_), Ronald Weasley sat blatantly staring at her.

"Hermione! What on earth happened to you last night?" Ron's normally sardonic baritone came out accusingly.

"What?" What had last night been? She ran through all the important dates in her mind: prefect meetings were at the end of the week, heads meeting times changed but she was sure her friends would not be questioning her about that. It certainly wasn't a Quidditch match…what could it be?

"She misses her best friend's birthday party and all she can say is 'What?'! Bloody ungrateful, if you ask me, Harry." Harry shot her an amused glance before shaking his head at the redhead.

"Ron, I'm sure Hermione has a perfectly good reason for missing Ginny's birthday party."

"Let's hear it then." Hermione just stared at them in horror. How could she have forgotten that? She had spent weeks planning the event with Ginny, whose more social nature led her to request an unforgettable, and cheap (she was a Weasley afterall), sixteenth birthday party! She racked her brains for an excuse. She had done her rounds and then she recalled sitting down on the sofa before the fire for a brief moment to rest her eyes and then…nothing, absolutely nothing. She couldn't recall a single detail after that. Furious, she tried again, as if this lapse was a personal insult to her intelligence. She couldn't just _not_ remember something; that was ridiculous. Healthy individuals didn't just _forget_ about the happenings of half a day. Something strange was happening and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Ron's voice rang out again, much softer this time and wrought with concern at the look on her face.

"Yes…Yes I'm fine. I'm dreadfully sorry. I don't know how I forgot but I must have gotten lost in my studies and just lost track of the day. Where is she? I'd like to apologize." She stopped herself before she could mumble anymore and completely ruin any semblance of the normalcy she was trying to erect.

"She's in the common room." Harry shot Ron a questioning look as Hermione turned away and she barely caught it. Looking back over her shoulder she saw Ron shrug his shoulders, probably chalking her strange behavior to his usual explanation, the fact that she was a _girl_.

Breathing out a quiet thank you, Hermione walked off and then turned again at the sound of Ron impatiently scurrying forward, one hand wrapped around the leather strap of her school bag.

"If you're going to leave this thing around, at least take some stuff out so that the poor soul who returns it to you doesn't have to break his back in that act." He wheezed exaggeratedly before grasping his back in mock agony.

"Noted." She shot him a wry smile and he grinned back shaking his head at her and then turned swiftly, sauntering back to where Harry sat.

Taking the bag she swung it up onto her shoulder once more and grimaced again when she felt it strike the bruises. She would have to go to Madame Pomfrey, and soon. But not before she figured out what was wrong. A pale hand gripped her uninjured shoulder lightly and she swung around to great a very frustrated Draco Malfoy. He looked at her with an odd gaze, as if her were sizing her up. He seemed to nod to himself before speaking.

"Are you alright?" She looked at him curiously. The day was getting stranger and stranger.

"What?"

"Never mind, look I just wanted to let you know that I already updated McGonagall on our progress last week so you don't have to meet her at seven." Her jaw dropped slightly; he had purposefully eliminated an item from her hectic schedule. He was up to something. This felt wrong, very, _very_, wrong.

"Thanks." The word came out hushed and mumbled. She couldn't figure it out but all of a sudden her hands were clammy and her heart was beating faster than normal. By now the two of them had walked out of the hall and into the deserted corridor that led towards the Gryffindor dormitories.

"Don't thank me." His face twisted suddenly and she couldn't quite recognize the emotion but it was strangely familiar. Her stomach dropped and she felt herself sway slightly. It was as if her body was trying to tell her something but there was a block in her mind. What had happened last night?

He nodded towards her suddenly, his face eerily blank once again before turning on his heel and walking swiftly away from her. He was almost to the end of the corridor before she regained her senses. If _anyone_ knew what had happened to her last night it would be her dorm mate.

"Malfoy!" He turned, looking annoyed and frustrated.

"What?" The word came out harried and hesitant.

"Did…did anything odd happen last night?" The change in his expression was instant, he eyes grew cold and his mouth withdrew into a thin, firm line. If she didn't know any better it looked like he was going to curse her right there and then. And then his jaw relaxed and the tension faded from everything but the color of his eyes: smoky gunmetal that was pinched in anger.

"No. Why would you think that?" The way he said it made it sound like a statement, as if he were daring her to answer.

She squared her shoulders. This felt old, like the antagonism of their past was relapsing, and yet there was a new maliciousness here. There was nothing innocent about this. The childishness and immaturity of their youth was absent, and in its place a threatening and severe air of immediacy. As if the fate of their relationship, their odd quasi-friendship that had developed over the months, rested on her answer.

"I…I don't know." Words failed her at his expression.

He took a step towards her and then another and another until they were a foot apart.

"_Nothing_ happened last night." His words rang with a tone of finality, as if he couldn't imagine her thinking otherwise. He gave her a fierce glare, sealing his statement and then turned on his heel as if to leave but then froze at her response.

"Then _why_ do I have hand-shaped bruises on my body?"

* * *

Oh boy! You didn't think i'd leave you _without _a cliffhanger did you? Silly readers...that's my specialty. :D I hope you enjoyed it, more to come soon!


	6. Constant Vigilance

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Author's Note: I'm ashamed. So terribly ashamed at both the length of time between updates and the rather untidy nature of this next update but in the incredibly slim hope that people are still reading, I humbly present the next installment. Fingers-crossed that this summer will be more lucrative as far as writing goes.

**Chapter Six: Constant Vigilance**

A hand jumped to her face, sealing her mouth shut before anything else could slip out. She could smack herself for being so stupid, why on earth would sharing her predicament help anything? Still, there was nothing to be done but to make the best of this whole mess. She cleared her throat.

"Excuse me?" His voice came across incredulous but she couldn't see his face. His stayed stagnate, facing away from her.

"You heard me."

Her voice wavered but she was determine to get to the bottom of this; she refused to be bullied and if anyone could take care of herself it was Hermione Granger.

He swung around, his face still eerily blank.

"What you do in your private time is none of my business, Granger. If your…_friends_," he sneered, "are getting fresh tell someone who actually cares."

Ignoring the sting of his intended insult, she forged ruthlessly forward. There was an all-encompassing feeling of truth in her mind; it felt like she was close, close to remembering. This moment felt crucial as if she was on the verge of discovering the reason behind her tiredness in the mornings, as if she hadn't slept, and the random bruises she found on her body.

"My _friends_ have nothing to do with this. I'm asking you for the last time, what happened last night?"

"And I'm telling you for the last time that _nothing_ happened." His voice was hard, callous almost; to a stranger he would have looked bored but she could see the desperation in his eyes. He wanted her to believe him, no, not wanted, he _needed_, her to believe him.

"I don't believe you." She uttered as a last ditch attempt, there was something he wasn't telling her, she was sure of it!

"This conversation is over." He glared at her once again and then stalked from the corridor leaving her feeling anxious and even more convinced that he knew something.

She could scream she was so frustrated. It felt like the threads of truth that had anchored her during this conversation were slipping free and not matter how hard she tried to grasp them she was losing. His ignorance, his utter disregard made her clench in anger. He knew something and yet he was perfectly willing to act like she was going crazy. Could he really be so cruel?

She shuddered, her mind searching every possible corner attempting to come up with some explanation with the bizarre marring of her body.

She knew he was on the other side, but she had began to hope that their odd camaraderie would sustain regardless of the state of the outside world, that he would respect her enough to tell her the truth or at the very least not purposefully shield her from it.

No matter, she though to herself, she had to thrust any impetuous hope of reviving their friendship out of her mind for present, there were more important things to attend to. First she would have to seek out Ginny to see if her friend had sent anyone after or and sought her out in any manner; anyone with even a clue of her missing night would be helpful at this point and if not then it was straight to Professor McGonagal. Generally she would have confronted Harry and Ron with this but this was her task and her task alone, and besides they had far too much on their own shoulders at present.

Shaking out her curls determinedly, Hermione struck outwards from the hall, a well-formed plan in her mind and a burgeoning hope that everything would work itself out eventually.

And just as she rounded the corner, the world faded to black and she passed out. The last thing her mind registering was a brilliant green flash.

* * *

**Several Floors Above…**

Ginny Weasley tossed the last of her empty gift boxes to the ground, her cheeks aglow with happiness at the lot she had received this year. Her brilliant curls were casually tossed over her shoulder in a well-practiced maneuver as she got to her feet and swept out the door, intent on finding a one Hermione Granger. She had never shown up for the party the previous night but even after a thorough search of the library, the kitchens, the head's suite, and as a last-ditch attempt the astronomy tower, Harry and Ron had blushed at the thought of going up there for Hermione but she had insisted only to be disappointed and embarrassed when the location proved empty.

However, knowing the Head Girl's talent for taking on more than she could chew, losing her for a night was all too common of an event. Why she had missed more of their nightly outings than Ginny cared to remember, always claiming to have gotten sidetracked because of a homework assignment, or finishing up the paperwork that was mandatory for Hogwarts Heads because _Malfoy_ was slacking off again. Hermione was never precise, always vague and flippant in her tone, implying that either she had no recollection of where she had been the night before or that it was so acceptable to her to miss friendly outings in the pursuit of greater knowledge or responsibility, and Ginny Weasley was heavily favoring the latter option.

Hermione would always be a close friend but there was no denying that the girl lived on a slightly different plane from those around her. On a whim, she had spoken to her mother, about the Hermione's scatterbrained behavior.

_'Mum, Hermione has cancelled again, she won't be coming here until next week.' Ginny proclaimed several mornings into their summer holiday. The kitchen was surprisingly empty, with only the two female Weasleys seated at the well-worn table._

_ 'Really?' Her mother muttered at her, clearly distracted by the grandfather clock creaking away in the corner. Three of the hands were away from home and in 'transition' and until the situation was remedied she would not achieve the peace of mind she craved._

_ 'Yes, really. Mum, she's cancelled on us for _months_! I don't know what she does with her time but she's always so blasé about it. She just shrugs it off.' Her mother turned to her, a knowing gleam in her eye. _

'_Your problem with her frequent disappearances wouldn't have anything to do with Harry not showing up as well would it?'_

_Blushing softly, Ginny tried to look annoyed at her mother's constant insinuations rather than secretly pleased that _someone_ understood her fascination with Harry._

'_That's completely not the point. It's like I don't even matter to her anymore.' Mrs. Weaseley frowned at this. _

'_You know, dear, if it bothers you so much, perhaps you ought to have a word with Hermione. Merlin knows she always takes so much onto her plate.' That girl was remarkable but she had a tendency to neglect what was truly important in place of her studies. _

'_Yeah, I guess.' Ginny stood to leave the room freezing when her mother started to speak again._

'_Don't forget her situation, Ginny. She may pretend everything is easy, but her…proximity to Draco might be more taxing than your realize.'_

Malfoy. He had been incredibly quiet in these past months. Sure he relentless taunting of 'lesser' beings was still kept up but he never seemed to appreciate it as before. It seemed a chore now. Shaking her head, she grinned at her train of thought, when would Malfoy _ever_ grow up? Still, her mother's words rang in her head, perhaps there was more to him than met the eye. Either way she would get Hermione to talk about what was happening, she had to open up to her, she just had to.

With that final thought, Ginny brushed off her skirt and ran a brush through her hair before speeding down the stairs. She glanced around the common room littered with students in various states of awareness. Neville could be seen, seated by the fire scribbling furious and two tables to his left, Lavender Brown flipped her blond hair over her shoulder, pulling a fresh pot of ink towards her. Marcus Case, a good humored fourth year, was snoring lightly on a sofa by the door, his school satchel pulled partway over his shoulder and his outer robes completely forgotten on the floor. Apparently Hermione was not the only one to have been neglecting her priorities lately. Shaking her head, Ginny navigated her way to the portrait.

She walked out of the door way and directly into a very flustered Harry, who was running a hand through his thick black hair, his eyes with bright with irritation at the Fat Lady.

"Ginny! Thank Merlin. I've left my homework in the room and she wouldn't give anything up!"

"Hurry Harry, you know how unpleasant McGonagall gets when you turn in anything late!"

"Tell me about it. Thanks a heap, Gin, what would I do without you?" Harry ruffled her hair gently, a fond gaze in his eyes before tossing her a quick wave and darting inside. Ginny watched longingly after him, marking how his broad shoulders and firm figure moved gracefully through the portal. She ran a hand through her tousled locks, her cheeks slightly redder than before and her eyes bright.

"You'd be fine. It's me I'm not so sure about." She whispered at the empty hallway. Her desire to find Hermione suddenly seemed so much less important, after Harry had run through. Perhaps she ought to have offered to wait for him, so they could walk together. But he was in a hurry; that would have been far too obvious. Ah well, perhaps next time. Pulling her bag higher up on her shoulder, Ginny walked towards the doors leading to the grounds, a little walk around the lake seemed in order.

* * *

**Dinner…**

The Great Hall rang with the clatter of china hitting the well worn table tops as the students frantically grabbed at the food in front of them. A mop of tousled red hair stood out across the tables, as even seated, Ronald Weasley towered over his classmates.

Luna Lovegood, pale-hair down her back and the end firmly gripped in her right hand, walked towards him.

"Ron?" He turned up his face, mouth partway open as he had been midbite.

"Yeah, Luna?"

"I wanted to wish you a wonderful evening. And to keep your head out of the basglys way. He doesn't like it when you walk through him."

"Right. Thanks, Luna." He gave her a slightly bewildered look.

"Also, Hermione was supposed to meet me this afternoon to show me the altered routes for patrols but she turned up. Let her know that we'll follow the old routes tonight, will you?"

Ron stalled for a second at this, Hermione had been torn up last week when he had let it slip that no one followed the outlined paths for patrols. In typical Granger fashion, she had tossed her head, tossed out a few large words that he ignored, and then headed to the library. She'd turned up the next morning with detailed maps for each of the Gryffindor prefects and then corresponding maps for the remaining houses.

He nodded briefly at Luna, before diving back into his meal, eyes pealed for Harry. Ron may have been a glutton but he was loyal to a fault. As soon as Harry got here, they'd sort Hermione out, she probably was in the library.

Moody's voice from fourth year, echoed at the back of his mind. _Constant Vigilance. _

Certainly, he thought to himself, but another helping of pudding couldn't hurt, could it?

But Ron, temporarily distracted by dessert, would realize only a day too late how disastrously unfortunate the consequences of those last bites of pudding would be.


	7. Captive

Disclaimer: Don't sue. Not mine.

Author's Note: Look at that, two chapters in a day! I think my record is improving. ;) Anyway, we're starting to get into the meat of things now. Bon Appetite. ;)

**Chapter 7: Captive**

The first wave of awareness came with the unpleasant, dank smell of stale water and then an all-consuming darkness as Hermione blinked herself into consciousness. She thought she'd gone blind at first, but then slowly the lines of the walls began to appear, the cracks filled with filth and she adjusted to her surroundings. The familiar waves of panic began to sink into her as she remembered the exchange between her and Malfoy before she had passed out.

She must have been cursed from behind. She took a deep breath before beginning to take account of her surroundings. There was a small crack in the stones ahead, letting in a wavering beam of moonlight. Her head was pounding but as far as she could tell she didn't have any open injuries, the sour, acidic tang of blood was absent from the air. Her legs were bound with heavy, course ropes and her ankles felt raw and dry but if she shifted just right they loosened ever so slightly. She catalogued away this piece of information. Her hands were bound with the same rope as her feet and her wrists were in a similar condition. Her knees were free as were her elbows but a thick band of leather tied her to the wooden pillar she was leaning against and magically expanded and contracted with her movements, there was no shimming out of that one.

She gasped suddenly, realizing her wand was missing but what could she have expected if she had been bound. But she knew for certain her captors were non-muggle. Her heart sank at this, there was very little to hope for. However, adversity had always been Hermione's greatest motivator and she would not be beaten here. She began again, running through her binds and noting the ones that could be loosened. She had just run through her condition for the third time, this time shifting her fingers and toes to see if she could procure some sort of weapon in the dark when her right pinky abruptly hit something that was neither wood nor stone. It was human.

"Excuse me?" She whispered in a hushed tone, her voice expelled hoarse and raw from the lack of speaking.

She carefully tapped her pinky against the calloused thumb before trying again but it was to no avail. No response.

Her neck was unbound, so slowly and carefully she turned to the right and saw to her complete surprise, a matted lock of platinum hair. Unbelieving she twisted her gaze even further and there it was. Or rather he.

Draco Malfoy, sprawled and bound just like her against the same pillar. It figures, even unconscious he found a way to invade her space. She nudged him with her shoulder this time, straining against her bounds, wincing as the coarse rope tugged against her skin.

He stirred slightly but his eyes remained shut, long pale lashes insolently stagnate. She sighed in resignation. That particular venue of escape was dead for the moment, she'd have to see if there was anything she could do about her restraints until he woke up. She started reiterating her circumstances once again.

_Feet…tied. Potentially able to loosen the knot_.

Hands…

And so it went until a gruff baritone echoed into the cell, as something hard and metal rapping against bars in the distance.

"Time to answer some questions, mudblood."

* * *

**Gryffindor Common Room, After Dinner…**

The fire glinted off Ginny Weasley curly mop of hair as she paced before Harry and Ron who were both seated, legs spread out before them.

"It's not like her to just disppear like this-" Harry began, one hand tiredly rubbing his face. They'd been sitting there for about forty-five minutes and had run out of places to look for her.

"Not entirely true, mate, do you remember that one time last year when she missed lunch and dinner and had just holed up in her room with Wackery Thack's Medley of Madness. We thought she'd died. But she turned up the next morning all smiles and homework corrections."

A wry smile graced Harry's face before he shot a look at Ginny.

"What do you think, Gin, leave it until morning?"

"I don't know Harry, this is the second time we couldn't find her in two days."

"Yeah but she turned up, didn't she? She said she was doing homework and lost track or something…" Ron mumbled, his gaze drawn to the left where Darcy Fontwager was crossing her legs, her skirt hiked up slightly higher than it should be. She winked, and casually lifted her skirt another inch before turning back to her companion. Ron's ears turned a vibrant red as Ginny snapped her fingers before his eyes.

"Ron! Pay attention, we can't just sit around and do nothing."

"Bugger off, Ginny, just cause the girl missed your birthday party doesn't mean she's in danger; not everything is about you, you know." He mumbled, brows pulled down in displeasure.

"That's not what this is about! Harry, tell him we have to find her."

"Okay, okay. Ron, you stay here in case she gets back."

"Where are you two going?" Ron's attention snapped back to them, a smirk growing on his face as he pinched Ginny lightly above the elbow. Ginny grimaced but her eyes were alight at the thought of spending time with Harry alone.

"We'll go check the heads commons and if we can't get her to answer, maybe the portrait knows when she left last."

Ron opened his mouth his mouth to respond but before another word could find its way out, Ginny had grabbed Harry's elbow, and was propelling him out of the common room.

He shrugged and resumed his previous entertainment by smirking at Darcy's back and watching with rapt attention as her bottle green finger nails carefully readjusted her skirt again.

It was going to be a rather pleasant evening, after all.

* * *

**In a deep, dank hollow: **

Hermione let out a slow breath and closed her eyes rapidly; maybe if they thought she was still out, she could buy some more time. The gate opened, an ear-gouging screech echoing out as the un-oiled turning mechanism protested.

Heavy footsteps led to her right and she felt a burst of warm air near her ear.

"Don't play with me, mudblood." A thin finger tapped her forehead smartly before snagging around her chin. He dug into the soft skin there and viciously jerked her face towards him before smacking her with his other hand.

Her eyes jumped open involuntarily, as her face slammed into the pillar, fire erupting from the injured side of her face.

She took a deep breath, and squared herself before turning back to him and glaring, ignoring the pinching pain in her right cheek. It felt like he'd broken something but that would have to be tended to later.

"Yes." Her voice was monotonous as best. Her eyes trained on the assailant's face. He was pristine: perfectly manicured black hair capped a handsome face. His robes were open, revealing a neatly pressed business suit, the tie a startling shade of scarlet. It probably went well with the stain on his left hand, she thought morbidly.

"So you are awake." His voice was oddly gruff, it was unsuited to his demeanor and felt incredibly wrong coming from him.

"Yes." She repeated, her eyes not moving an inch from his face, ready to catch any sudden motions.

He let out a soft chuckle, his teeth brilliantly white in the dark.

"Well then, let's get started shall we?" He rubbed his hands together, the spidery fingers longer than they should have been and adorned with two silver rings, one bearing the proud emblem of Salazar Slytherin.

Hermione shuddered slightly but maintained her gaze. She knew the role to she was supposed to play, and she while she was fairly confident she wouldn't make it out of this ordeal alive, there was a chance, a very, very small chance. But for that, she needed Draco Malfoy to wake up. Which meant, that she needed to stall, an undoubtedly painful affair. But there wasn't that much time, she needed him to confirm the story she would eventually let them drag out of her.

"What is your name?"

"Hermione Ann Granger." Her voice was soft, lacking any inflection. She needed to be convincing and the best way to achieve that was to begin quietly. That way, the truth, or she supposed, the "truth" might be more compelling.

Another smack echoed into the otherwise silent chamber and she swore she could feel her neck pop. Stars swam in her vision and she fought hard to stay alert, but he face before her grew blurry. She blinked violently and slowly, clarity resumed.

"Your real name, _mudblood_?" He twisted the last word, his tone dripping with irony.

Her stomach dropped in horror.

_They knew._


	8. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Disclaimer: Not Mine. Don't sue, yo.

Author's Note: Unfortunately, this might be the last update until next week, I'm meant to start studying for an exam that I take at the end of the summer, so my free time will be more limited. But who knows, I might be extra prolific during my writing breaks and churn out chapters faster than I think. Either way, expect an update towards the end of the week. Hopefully this'll tide you over until them. Enjoy! ;)

**Chapter 8: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble**

**Somewhere in Hogwarts…**

The corridors were lighted by wooden sconces, placed evenly through the hallways, their flickering nature casting shadows that danced and wrestled along the walls and floors of the castle. Ginny Weasley spun a small circle as she poked her head into yet another unoccupied classroom, full-filing her prefect duties and their hunt for Hermione in one fell swoop.

Harry strolled languidly behind her, his hands buried deeply in his pockets, stretching the front of his soft woolen sweater so that every so often she caught a glimpse of what years and years of Quidditch training did to a body. Harry was, in rather unsophisticated terms, incredibly fit.

"We're almost up to the heads commons, Harry." She announced, unnecessarily, because out of the two of them, Harry had visited Hermione's rooms more frequently, in that Ginny had never been allowed up there. Purely for homework purposes; or at least so she hoped. Sometimes, she wished so desperately to have the easy bond with Harry that Hermione did, his company guaranteed in her life rather than a privilege that she had to seek out opportunities such as this one to indulge in.

But, as she twirled a fine lock of coppery hair that shone in the faint lighting of the passageway, sometimes she thanked her lucky stars that her …_appeal_ was a bit more obvious than Hermione's. The head girl was beautiful, but in her own way, her natural features tended towards stern and authoritative than soft and feminine. Now, Ginny, she took proper care to emphasize her better assets, after all, Harry had to work hard at everything else, it was the least she could do.

He moved passed her, completely oblivious to the hour and half she had spent meticulously preening each lock of hair to curl just so. She deflated only momentarily though, long gone were the days when Harry's disregard for her …feminine wiles punctured her ego. She knew better now. Really, she did.

They'd arrived. The fraying portrait bore the signature crimson and gold that Gryffindors were taught from eleven to see as home. But behind them were the startlingly cold emerald and silver that reminded them that even here at Hogwarts, friendly territory was scarce. Ginny shivered, remember her mother's words about Draco Malfoy's affect on Hermione and she glanced at Harry. He offered her a reassuring smile before clearing his throat.

"Password." A wizened old man straightened up, his graying locks falling off his head as a stubborn breeze blew past him.

"Crookshanks?" Harry guessed, hopefully, his mouth turning up in a soft smirk. Ginny melted but was unsurprised when the doorway remained shut.

She winked at him, before uttering a sound and confident, "Gilderoy Lockhart."

Without so much as a creek the old man in the portrait bowed and swung himself to the left.

Harry burst into laughter, his left hand lifting out of his pocket and onto her shoulder as he balanced himself. She grinned proudly in the firelight, her cheeks reddening at the contact. The impression his hand, which was surprisingly warm considering the temperature in that part of the castle, left on her skin prickled with energy.

He had to feel that; she knew he did. He just hadn't realized it yet.

Harry beckoned her forward and pushed her through, his hand moving delightfully lower to the base of her spine and she shivered delightfully at the sensation before walking in, sashaying her hips just a little more than normal.

He followed, still chuckling as the portrait door swung closed, leaving them in darkness.

"_Lumos_." They whispered simultaneously, before heading inside.

* * *

**Somewhere in a Dark, Dank Cell...**

Hermione shifted slightly, wincing as she felt the skin on her ankle rub against the ropes that were binding her. Her mind was quickly piecing together an alternate route in giving the story now that they knew the core. The question was, how much did they know, and if they could verify it.

"My name is Hermione Granger." The dark-haired captor spat in her face.

"Insolent girl, I can see you'll need some time to consider your …_situation_, after all, what would your family say? Aligning yourself with a Malfoy, you'd break their little, vermin hearts, wouldn't you?"

She grit her teeth, fighting the urge to defend. But she had to stay calm, victory was in maintaining her wits, in maintaining her silence.

" What will happen to them, when they realize we've got you." He started laughing, his spidery fingers suddenly grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her to the side. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at the blinding pain but there was nothing she could do.

"Maybe I'll send them a token, wouldn't that be nice?" He was close, his lips inches from her ears and she could feel the heated air flooding her senses. He smelt of decay and cigar smoke.

"A finger? Perhaps your nose…no no, what they're really recognize is your hair, isn't that right? That's what you're known for, after all." The words were whispered and she clenched her hands to keep from shaking. She couldn't see him from this vantage point; he was just past her line of sight.

"Yes, I think that'll do, won't it _Granger_." She could almost feel the word he was really saying, as he snarled at her.

She felt his lips, surprisingly cold and shuddered as he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, feeling utterly violated. He nuzzled her face with his pointed nose, smelling the her jugular vein that lay just below his lower lip. She winced in distaste as she felt his slimy incisors pressed against her jaw line as she smiled.

"I think we're done for now, but I won't leave you without a parting gift, no, no, that'd just be too _mean_." He twisted a tendril of her hair around his middle finger, fisting the end in his palm, and without warning jerked it out of her head and for the first time she lost herself and cried out in earnest at the numbing, excruciating pain that radiated out.

"There's a dear, I knew you were sad to see me leave. Fear not, my pet." He paused, pressing another kiss to her cheek before leaning into the side of her lips, as if he were feeding her the words.

"You'll _never_ be rid of me." He smacked her in the chest, just to the left of her sternum, directly above her heart.

"You'll always have a special place for me, wont you?" He was cooing now, his fingers caressing her face, turning her chin towards him. But she stayed silent, tears coursing down her cheeks but her mouth was firmly shut.

"Such pink lips," he ran a perfectly polished nail along her lower lip before pulling down harshly and before she could jerk her mouth shut, he was kissing her. He tasted vile, his tongue harsh and pulsating, assaulting her mouth and she thrust herself away from him but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape.

Her head knocked against the pillar as she tried to move away from him, her hands and legs stretching their binds but there was no way out. She couldn't breathe, her mouth completely sealed, and his hand, those long figures wrapped around her throat, strangling her so slowly that she didn't even realize he was until she gasped in his mouth, drawing him in deeper and she felt the world go dim.

He seemed to sense her struggling wane as her body relaxed and she passed out cold. He laughed delightedly before licking his lips as he backed away. That would teach her to lie to him. He walked carefully around the pillar to Draco Malfoy's pale, resting form. It was time, he thought to himself, it was time to wake up. Nodding, he set his wand just below Draco's jugular notch and pressed harshly against the skin there.

Oh, things were just about to get good.

He peered around at the helpless girl, her mouth slightly open, her lips and face bruised a faint red. That color would darken. Oh yes, she would be black and blue by morning.

He reached out a hand to caress Draco's dusty locks, his fingers passing through the hair gently, as if he were touching his own son. The boy was beautiful, in a sad, desolate way; he was delicate, far more delicate than his father knew. They would break him in the end. Oh how they would break him. Taking a moment to assess, he paused, grasping Draco's chin in his hands and lifting his face upwards. In the light of the moon, he almost glistened; his eyes no doubt would have been a fine, matt gray.

He was so innocent, this virulent young Death Eater. He was so naïve, thinking he understood the drive of Lord Voldemort. But he was blind; he did not see the intricacies of the plan they had laid out before him. He was told from the beginning that he was to gather information from Granger. But week after week, when even under the imperious curse, and on occasion veritaserum, when he failed to procure any verifiable information, he could not see what was right before him. He could not see who the mudblood really was.

It was too obvious. But he was a fool, that Draco Malfoy, he was a damned fool and he was going to understand the gravity of his mistake.

This was not Hermione Granger. They had thought it would be, because after all, Dumbledore had been a fool, he was constantly underestimating his students, in their potential to tend towards the darker side of humanity, that is.

Oh, they had rejoiced when a veritable fountain of information was placed within their grasp. They had broken through the impenetrable very easily the wards at Hogwarts, a clever little snippet of information that Draco himself has stumbled upon. The Heads chambers had no limitations on magical work; it was a little known fact and hidden on the left hand corner of page four-hundred and seventy-three in Hogwarts a History. But it had been their saving grace.

Draco had full access to the order's secrets. But it was too good to be true. The first two weeks he had only questioned her three times, his excuse that she would begin to tire and question him and once he was suspected all would be lost. But she didn't, she spilled more than he could have ever imagined. She gave him fake after fake and he slurped it all up like a little puppy, but he missed the one truth she gave him. Oh it was cleverly hidden, but now, now it was time for him to realize the consequences.

No one went unpunished. No one.

"_Enervate_."

* * *

**Back in Hogwarts**_**…**_

Harry walked out of the balcony and back into the common room, the place was deserted, no sign of Draco or Hermione. Her book bag was missing and so were her school shoes but there was no sign of a struggle or any sort of mischief.

She just simply wasn't here. Malfoy's door was shut but there was no way to get in there but it was eerily quiet.

"Ginny!" He called out; it was time to call it quits. They'd have to talk to McGonagall in the morning if she hadn't surfaced by then.

"Ginny!"

That was odd; there was no response. She had to be in Hermione's rooms, the door must be sound carefully passed the empty hearth and the lounge set that adorned the common room before he arrived at Hermione's door.

It was wrapped in gold and crimson hangings. But beneath them he could see clearly that her door was open. He tightened his grip on his wand, as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

Something was amiss.

* * *

Don't forget to review, I've gotten rather addicted, y'all are far, far too kind! Besides, they feed my muse like no other! :P


	9. Misguided

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

Author's note: So I totally blew off studying to write this but I just had to get it out of my system, so I hope y'all enjoy! Thanks for sticking with this and all the wonderful reviews; you don't know how much y'all inspire me. :)

**Chapter 9: Misguided**

Draco Malfoy blinked his eyes tiredly as a startling shock of energy shoved through him, jostling him awake. A tiresome and uncomfortable pressure lay on his sternum. He moved to brush the hair out of his face but his hands wouldn't move. He tugged again but they were restrained somehow behind him, some sort of coarse rope- oh, _fuck_.

He looked up to see the confirmation of his deduction. A tall swarthy figure swayed slightly above him, his wand pressed firmly against his chest. Shaking his head slightly, his usually gelled back locks of hair slipped to the side, crossing over his face.

But his vision was clear enough to tell him one thing: he was not on friendly territory.

"Master Malfoy, how kind of you to grace us with your presence." Came a sardonic voice that ended with a slight huff as the figure drew himself up to his full height. The face was shrouded in the shadows but the voice was achingly familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on his captor's identity for certain.

"I didn't exactly have a choice." His voice came out matter-of-fact, slicing through the eeriness of the moment.

He swore he heard the air ricocheting off the fist that came towards his face in that instance before it made contact, but he had no way of preventing the blow. His head snapped back with a sickening thud, the pain radiating out from his cheekbone, which he was sure was broken or at the very least fractured.

"Master Malfoy, your manners are positively _muggle_, your father would be appalled."

Draco bit his lip to keep from responding, he needed to wait out his assailant, to get a feel for him. He hadn't anticipated that strike: he wouldn't make that mistake again.

"That's better. Now, I have a message from your father-" at this he, he couldn't stop himself from querying on his behalf.

"My father knows I'm here?" His voice came out incredulous and slightly higher pitched than he would have liked and as he turned to face his attacker he was met with another powerful blow to his other cheek.

At lease he'd have a matching set, he thought to himself ruefully as a dazzling array of colors erupted in front of his eyes and he grimaced at the all-encompassing prickling that was slowly covering his face.

"I don't take kindly to interruptions. As I was saying, your father wants you to learn from your mistakes, so your assignment has changed."

There was a pause here, entirely for dramatic effect but it was lost on Draco who leaned back tiredly against the pillar before sitting up straight in shock, he wasn't alone in captivity, which meant…double _fuck_.

Granger was here.

"I see you've noticed your company. Miss _Granger_ will be your entertainment for your stay, and you will, listen to me carefully, Draco, you _will_ illicit some information from her. Is that understood?"

He nodded, his gaze cold when he met mystery man in the eyes.

"Specifically?"

"Since you've been imprisoned for the last eight hours, I'll let you decide. My _gift_ to you_._" His voice was getting more and more excited, his spidery fingers dancing together.

"Thanks." He shook his hair out of his eyes again before shifting slightly.

"Convince her, Draco. Use _any_ means necessary. You might have to employ some _Gryffindor_ tactics." His fingers were almost blurring out of focus they were moving so fast now, he couldn't concentrate on anything else; the motion was so hypnotic.

"You will be persuasive, and you will seduce her, use those morals the Gryffindors are so fond of. Make her feel for you. And then, she will come tumbling down from her mudblood pedestal and rise, a very _different_ woman if I'm not mistaken."

Draco felt his eyes shift faster and faster, following each daunting, taunting finger as it intertwined with its peers, he could barely comprehend the words that were being issued at him, there was too much turbulence in the scene before him. He almost couldn't breathe.

And just as it was getting to be too much, it stopped, the sudden stillness an acute form of relief for his mind, which was still racing to catch up. The assailant's final words rang out as he strode purposefully out of the cell and the gate whined and moaned as it was shackled back into place.

"Oh and Draco? You will deliver your…_findings_, in person this time. In case you were seeking some, ah, _incentive_." His blood ran cold. That could only mean one thing.

Lord Voldemort.

**Back at Hogwarts…**

Harry felt his muscles tense as he swung the door open, kicking it with his foot as he slashed his wand through the air his voice calling out a loud, "_Expelliarmus_!"

But he was met with an empty room. The curtains in the window flailed in the light breeze pulsating through. But Ginny Weasley was nowhere to be found. He took a few steps towards the opening and peered out but other than the cool moonlight dusting the Hogwarts grounds and the palliative hum of the lake's tide in the distance, there was nothing worth seeing.

He thrust the window shut harshly in frustration. Where was she? And then he remembered the only other entry into this chamber was through the portrait. He ran to the front of the hallway, and tapped the figure harshly.

"Did you let anyone in?" His voice rang out, scattering the silence.

"Master Potter, I cannot divulge-"

"I don't really care, someone's taken Ginny Weasley, she's missing."

"Oh Miss Weasley, why she left not a moment ago, Professor Snape-" But that was all Harry needed to hear and with that he tore off down the corridor. Dumbledore had spent his life trying to disprove his theories about Snape fidelity but here was proof.

"Mister Potter! She went willingly…" The old man mumbled as the young man disappeared around the corner, his ears deaf to any further placations.

They were an interesting pair. The young girl was obviously fawning over the famous Harry Potter, but she was so lovely in her own right. Settling back against his rock, he took a final peak at the corridor but it was empty.

Potter seemed all right, nothing like the Malfoy boy. Or, as he took into account Harry's instant mistrust of Severus Snape, perhaps they were both more alike than was easily apparent.

_Misguided_. The word seemed to fit them both equally.

Another gust of wind thrashed through his fictitious little forest and blew off a lock of hair as he leaned back, eyes closed.

No matter, it was high time he took a nap. All this activity left him far more lethargic than it would in his younger days.

And with that he settled back languidly, his shielded eyes missing Ginny Weasly pass by the portrait again, Severus Snape guiding her meticulously out of the hollow they'd been hiding in until Potter left. He missed her sad gaze down the corridor as she waved a silent farewell.

And he missed the resourceful expression on her face as she continued down the hallway; she had not been kidnapped, as Harry was so convinced.

No, Ginny Weasley disappeared on her own merit and she would not be seen again, for a long, long while.

But the dreary old man had missed it all.

**Back in the Cell…**

Draco Malfoy sat poised against the wood, his back pressed firmly against it as he ran one hand as far across as possible to grasp onto Granger.

He needed to be able to wake her up. He didn't have much time if he knew anything about how the other side worked.

"Oi, Granger." His voice came out frustrated, as even firm tugs yielded nothing.

She was out cold. He took a moment to catalogue his surroundings. They were in a decrepit, above ground shelter, the slim beams of moonlit glossing across the floor proof of that face. It was roughly eight hours since they had been taken in but the moon was fairly high in the sky from the angle of the light so they must still be up north, if not further north than Hogwarts.

His feet were bound and his wrists shared the same fate but if he just shifted to the left he could feel a firm wooden prominence in his left pocket.

His _wand_.

Relief coursed through him, he felt slightly surprised, but then taking into account the fact that he was playing a role not an actual prisoner, it made some sense that he had it. But she had to believe that he had been taken in, so she couldn't know.

However, he did need to wake her up. Struggling against the ropes he tugged until the knots started to loosen and then all of a sudden his left hand came free, as if the ropes weren't tied, just twisted tightly.

He hoisted himself up, and freed himself completely. The wand was poised at his face, ready to test out the few healing spells he'd learned the previous summer when he saw her.

Her head was tilted just so, her mangy hair taking over the majority of it, but the sliver he could see was bruised, almost beyond recognition, the swelling distorting her face.

He stepped over her, and began to mutter healing spells.

About ten minutes later, the bruises looked old and the swelling had gone down. He shifted his wand to her neck and was surprised when a large snap reattached her hyoid bone, which had been fractured.

He must have strangled her. For whatever reason this struck a chord within him more so than any of the other injuries. Those were standard fair for the prisoners of war, but to be strangled. That was not usual. It took a great deal of effort to strangle someone.

Shifting his gaze over her, he began to doubt his abilities to gather the information he needed. She'd be a _Gryffindor_, to the very end, all crimson and gold and fiery altruism. He needed a new way to get to her. He needed to play nice.

Running a hand through his hair, Draco grimaced; it was time to wake the beast.

"Enervate!" The bolt of light struck her deep in the chest and she launched forward, a great gasp of air escaping her throat. Her eyes flittered this way and that, their dark gaze searching out the source of the magic.

And then they lighted on him and her face crumpled for a second before he saw her narrow her eyes and strengthen her posture. She would not be so easy to persuade. But he knew everything about her; he'd been interrogating her for months.

"About time you decided to wake up, Granger." He sat suddenly, eye level with her before wincing as his disappeared expertly behind his back and under his shirt. Phase one complete.

He started to untie her but stopped when she recoiled back so suddenly he thought she'd snapped her own neck. Her eyes doubled in size and he saw her almost frightened.

What had happened to her while he was out?

"I'm just going to untie you, Granger, relax." He spoke slowly, and moved even more so, allowing her to follow and silently sanction everyone of his movements.

"Um, thanks." Her voice was hoarse and almost non-existent, she coughed before clearing her throat.

"Done." He slid back a little so her was about two feet from her and then took a cursory glance about the cell.

"We've got to get out of here." Her voice rang out firmly.

"Thank goodness you're awake, I never would have thought of that on my own." He bit back.

"There's no need to be unpleasant, I'm just-"

"Just what, Granger? In case you haven't noticed, we're in a prison cell, in the middle of nowhere and we've got no wands."

She glanced at him curiously at that.

"But how did you wake me up then? And my face feels healed." He cursed himself then, he should have left her alone.

"I don't have time for your stupid questions, we need to make a plan."

"Oh, really? That's all you've got, _we need to make a plan_." She mocked at him, a smirk running across her face.

In this light, that deviousness, she looked a little Slytherin. He could work with that.

"I'm glad to see you've got your sense of humor back, now have at it, Granger, what's next? You're not top of our class for nothing."

"I'm not helping you." She turned her back on him and started walking around the room.

"What?" He supposed it had been going a bit too well.

"You and I, Malfoy, we're not friends. I don't trust you."

She was cold all of a sudden and he realized that she must be remembering the events that had transpired earlier that day before they were kidnapped..

"Look, I don't know what you're on about but we're both stuck in this cell so we might as well work together-"

"I said, I'm not helping you." And with that she sat petulantly in the corner, as far away from his as she could get.

"Fine, you can stay here and rot, for all I care." He spat back, determined to get in the last word.

He turned his back on her resolutely, _fine_, if she wanted time. That's what she would get.

He resisted the urge to glance back at her and tried to occupy his mind with his task. How was he going to win her trust?

He ground his feet as he heard a soft hiccupping breath being drawn in behind him. He ignored it when she started to breathe quicker and quicker. And pretended to be asleep when she started to sob.

He wasn't affected by it.

Really, he _wasn't_.


	10. Friend or Foe

Disclaimer: Promise it's not mine, you.

A/N: So dearies, I hope you enjoy this one, because it'll be the last for a few days, I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow so I won't be super lucid for a bit. But hopefully you're enjoying it and if you've kept count of the days we're almost to the point where we continue on from the first few chapters, where we left off. Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed and keep reviewing, it might get me off my behind and writing more quickly! :P

**Chapter 10: Friend or Foe?**

Hermione Granger rose that morning hours before the dawn, her eyes blinking long and hard to get accustomed to the dim light in the prison cell. She grasped her aching head in her hands and remembered the corrosive events of the day prior.

She shifted off the floor and pulled her tense and sore body against the harsh, cold stones of the wall. The blood rushed to her head and she swayed lightly before dropping back and letting her head drop against the stones. It was an acute sense of relief then, the cool of the wall against the throbbing heat of her head. But her relief was short lived as her eyes met the rumpled figure across the cell from her.

Malfoy was sprawled, his tall, lithe figure taking up more space than she would have thought. He always seemed so scrawny against the muscled and burly backdrop of Crabbe and Goyle. But now, unhindered, his pale limbs stretched on, their form not in the least bit skinny. Or unpleasant, a traitorous portion of her mind whispered, but she cast it out almost immediately.

He shifted in his sleep and she wished she could see in innocence in the flash of flesh that appeared to her, but instead all she could see was the bruises on her and the furious frustration in his eyes in that corridor at Hogwarts, moments before she lost consciousness.

She had thought he would kill her, to silence her but he didn't. Instead they both ended up in here. Wherever that was.

She turned her gaze to the ceiling but it was hard to see anything. Her eyes lighted back on the figure across from her.

She tried to remember what had happened but all that came to mind was passing out and then, _that _man, and his…she wouldn't think about it, not now. Even last night when Malfoy had been pushing her, all she could think about was that wretched man and how he-he, _no._

She could not, _would_ not think of it now.

Who wanted her here? She could name a few but the list of people who wanted her and Draco Malfoy was short. Nonexistent.

Whoever he was, he was not on any side they knew of. But she supposed, in a very odd, and twisted turn of events that did seem to place her and Malfoy on the same side and she had been a bit short with him yesterday. It was not her place to antagonize, especially in these dire circumstances where he was the closest thing to an ally that she had.

Ron was always teaching her strategy in chess, she could remember his words as if it were yesterday.

"_Hermione, what're you doing?" _

"_I don't know, Ron." I responded tiredly, moving the rook I'd moved two spaces a back and moving the knight in its steed. He shook his head even more exasperatedly at that._

"_You're always forgetting your pawns."_

"_But they can't help me now." _

"_But they can't help you later if you don't move them now. The pawns are your insurance policy."_

Perhaps Draco Malfoy needed to be moved around a little too before he could serve a purpose. She watched him tiredly, her shoulders hunching inwards and her body shivering in the sudden draft.

Perhaps she had been too harsh in their last conversation, he was just as much a prisoner as she was. And as she glazed over the wounds on his face, she was also not alone in injury.

Perhaps it was time to apologize.

Wearily, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, grimacing against the fading ache of old bruises before stumbling over to him and kicking him soundly in the solar plexus.

He moaned and shot awake, his left hand grasping her ankle and in a startling quick maneuver, she was flipped onto the floor, his impossibly warm body hovering over hers.

His right arm was gripped tightly against her own, shoving it behind her while his left was placed across her neck, tightening as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

` "Granger?" His voice was confused but he had yet to let go of his ever-cinching grip.

Her breaths came out in short gasps as she felt her neck being imprisoned for the second time that day and in the clarity of suffocation he looked almost beautiful, his charcoal irises rimming wide pupils, his soft platinum locks brushing her cheek and his lips, delicate and pink. You would think they'd be more severe considering the ugly words they spewed but now they were such a feminine shade of rose. She giggled at the thought.

Malfoy's eyes widened even more in bewilderment but he realized their position and loosened his grip on her neck immediately. His right hand letting go of the arm beneath her and settling it on her hip, the warmth instantly absorbed through the thin cotton of her school skirt and through to her own skin.

But as her breaths grew deeper and the oxygen returned to her system, she dropped her head to the floor and tried to put some space between them but he wasn't having it.

"So eager to move away, Granger?" His voice came across amused but she shuddered, her system starting to lock down at the forced contact.

"Let go-let go of me, Malfoy." She stuttered out before closing her eyes and taking in deep breaths to ward off the anxiety of his touch. He was too close, she could barely think. But she had to pull herself together, so what if that _man_, that piece of scum had forced himself on her. This was Malfoy, he might be the biggest pratt on the planet, but he wouldn't do something like that.

He _wouldn't_.

For a moment she thought his eyes softened, but the flash was gone before it even arrived and it was replaced with an even harder gaze.

"_Oh_, is the poor mudblood scared?" He taunted, before shoving her away roughly.

She got to her feet shakily before putting several feet between them.

She wanted to turn back to her corner then, it felt so fruitless. The idea of creating an alliance between them, besides, alliances were borne of trust and that was one thing she certainly did not feel with him. He was unpredictable and they were on foreign ground but she needed information, and she needed his help. She knew that, and so she swallowed and tried again.

"I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday, it was uncalled for. I misplaced my anger and I am sorry for it." The wording came out wooden and she was fairly certain her fixed gaze on the stone behind his knee did not assist in selling her story but he was silent.

She waited for what seemed like forever before looking up to meet his gaze. But he just stood their, his expression calculating.

"I think you're right, that we only have each other and we should try to figure out a way…out." She wrung her hands before looking at him again but he was barely moving at all let along saying anything. She cast around desperately for something to say.

"I know you think I don't trust you and well I don't, not really. But I think anyone who would have us both taken in is not on any side we've encountered before. I mean if it were, that is to say, previous strategy implies that one or the other of us would have been imprisoned but our mutual imprisonment is certainly an anomaly." She hurried on her words tripping over themselves but she felt a certain degree of rightness in her convictions and so she kept talking, hoping eventually she would stumble upon a new conclusion.

"Therefore, we must be facing a new foe, one whose source of contention is against both of our moral and political view points, which means we must…work together." She finished lamely.

He took in her words, the slightly curious expression on his face never leaving, his head cocked slightly to the side so she knew he was listening.

"Right, well I'll just leave you to consider that then." She took a few more steps back and was just about to walk away when she heard him scoff.

She whipped around, a slight sense of hope blossoming within her.

"You think my father doesn't know I'm here?" His voice was dry and sardonic, but his eyes were nervous. He was being truthful.

"I…Well I assumed not considering the state you're in." She walked towards him again. Surely, no one would be so cruel, to do this to their own child, it was unimaginable. Hermione felt her guard go up. Perhaps it was too cruel, he must have an ulterior motive, when meant she had to be extra careful.

"You don't know anything, do you? You think you're intelligent because you hobble yourself carrying around books day in and day out but when it comes down to the real stuff, you've been living in a little bubble, it's _precious_." He sneered at her, his eyes narrowing in disgust. But at her or the situation she couldn't tell. Either way he was being more honest than he had been in a long time.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry." She uttered quietly before taking a few steps closer. He sat down suddenly, his back flesh against the wall. He looked defeated.

"My father not only knows I'm here, he put me here. He's orchestrating this whole thing so I can pump you for information." His voice came out dull but Hermione felt remotely detached from the whole situation, the shock at his revelation dulled.

"He wants me to find out all of _perfect_ Potter's secrets so they can defeat him. And if they don't, I die." He let out a dry laugh at the last part.

Hermione moved closer, sitting across from him, the tips of their shoes just shy of contact.

"I don't know what to do anymore, so I'm giving up. You're obviously not giving anything up, and I don't really care anymore." He looked at her then, his grin soft and more sincere than anything he'd done so far.

"What would you do, mudblood?" The word came at her so quickly, cutting through the sympathy she had started feeling for him and she narrowed her eyes. This was surreal, why was he telling her all this.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because, you stupid, _girl_, you're so ready to think we're on the same side, when really you're all alone." His smirk was bordering on furious then.

"You said the same thing just a few hours ago." She reminded him

"But two hours ago, I hadn't spilled my guts to you."

"But why did you?"

"I already told you."

"No you told me why you shouldn't have told me, but why did you chose to tell me?"

He was silent.

"Why _Draco_?"

"_Fuck_," he started, his eyes meeting hers, his voice dynamic," I dunno, maybe cause I'm sick of getting hurt, no matter what I do, they just keep tossing me around. It's entirely selfish, I want out of this hell hole as much as you do."

"Well," he noted, considering the dawning outrage on her face, "perhaps not quite as much, I may not be a Death Eater but at least I'm still considered a person."

She barely knew what came over her but suddenly her left hand was stinging and Malfoy was rubbing his cheek, somewhat stunned. He seemed thoughtful. But she shoved herself back a little anyhow.

"I guess I deserved that. Good to know you're not completely worthless." He smirked at her.

"Yes well, if you're so intent on getting out of here, then you need to stop calling me that. You're better than that." Her eyes widened at that, like she couldn't believe the words had come out of her mouth but his response was even more stunning.

"You're right, I'm-," he paused here to run a hand through his hair. "Well, _fuck_ Granger, I'm sorry."

She was silent for a moment; unable to comprehend a show of decency from him but slowly she came back to herself.

"Right, you're, welcome." She smiled at him despite herself and gleefully noted he was struggling to contain his own.

"Unless you want to hold hands and start skipping around now, I suggest we actually starting considering a way to get out of here."

He snuck a sly grin at her and she nodded before kneeling and beckoning him over.

"My father would have a fit if he caught me know, at the beck and call of a –" he stopped himself, surprising both of them," well you." He looked sheepish but she waved it off and offered a quick laugh.

"There's a reason they haven't killed me yet, I'm worthless as Hermione Granger."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then he shut it as she shot him a look. But she felt slightly pleased at the harbinger of his attempt to defend her.

"Wait, let me finish, I'm not in the Order and I've been kept in the dark because, I'm not of age."

"_What? _You're a seventh year, of course you're of age." Here, it was her turn to surprise him.

"You're not following me, they know who I really am."

"What the bloody hell are you on about, Granger?" He had moved forward, he obviously believed every word of this, which was necessary, if he didn't the plan wouldn't go forward and she would never get out. Well, she considered him, she wasn't entirely sure how much she could trust him but not enough to know everything, just enough to help her. But, she could test him too, if he passed then she knew she could trust him but if he didn't, well, it would be his head on the line. Either way, he needed to believe her or this all would be for nothing.

If she could get him out too, that was fine, but right now, she needed to get out of this, because no one would be coming to help her. That's was the point of all this.

"You mean you still haven't figured it out?" Her voice rose delightfully into a girlish chatter that was completely unlike her and identical to a very popular young redhead.

"No _fucking way._"

He knew, and with that, Hermione Granger smiled at him before she promptly shuddered and blurred into Ginny Weasley.


	11. Belief

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: So there aren't enough sorrys in the world to make up for the delay but I've been busy with studies and other stories that have captured my interest and surgery but here I am fully recovered and with a plan. I'm going to update this story every Wednesday, so you should expect longer or at the very least more regular updates. So I'm reposting this chapter after rewriting it a bit because it was bothering me in its old form and it still bother's me a bit but i think it's a bit better now. Sorry about that. :)

If there's anyone still reading this, your reviews make me smile and they make me write faster! ;)

Merry reading!

-S

**Chapter 11: Belief**

Or at least someone who looked exceedingly like Hermione Granger. Draco peered closely at her, noting the clever transformation still held a few differences from the true Ginny Weasley. But to someone who spent little time around the Weasley brood, who had seen the Weasley girl perhaps once or twice in person and never up close, some one like a Death Eater, the differences would be unnoticeable.

Clever; v_ery _clever.

But now the question was why?

"Granger why on earth are you willingly looking like a Weasley?" He intoned, his voice twisting sardonically.

"Draco, you don't get it, I am Ginny Weasley." Her voice came out higher pitched and if he closed his eyes he was certain it'd be a perfect replica. She looked at him fiercly then, her dark eyes, just shy of the right shade of brown that would match Weasley's, alight with the enlightenment she wanted to bestow on him. He realized their location then, if there was something for him to discover he would have to through intuition and whatever subtle hints she provided. Great. If anything this was proof that the girl before him was actually Hermione Granger, she would find a way to turn communal prison time into a classroom. Obviously she didn't want anyone else to know that though. He would play along for now.

"Well, don't expect me to applaud you for the epiphany. It's hardly an achievement." He sat down then suddenly and she sank to the floor beside him, her finger idly making markings in the sand. The script was foreign, the graceful calligraphy curling in and out of the letters and he was sure he couldn't transcribe it. Until he shifted slightly to the side and saw that it was not in fact letters that she was creating but rather an eye.

Her question was crystal clear then: Were they being watched?

He shook his head then once more when she carefully scratched her ears.

She paused for a second, in surprise and then her face tightened. She didn't trust him. Well, he wasn't entirely sure if what he was telling her was true but it made no difference to him. She looked frustrated beyond belief but there was nothing he could do about that. If she didn't want to talk to him, then that was her own bloody problem.

He sat back, idly crossing one foot over the other. What was her angle here? If she could so easily transform into Ginny Weasley, why would she do it now?

Ginny Weasley, what was so remarkable about her?

Nothing.

Although she looked fantastic in that Quidditch uniform- right on task, Draco, _focus_.

He pondered for a moment before looking at her again. She was staring at him, her face determined as if willing him to come to the right conclusion. He almost snorted at that, she could keep staring all day, it wasn't going to do _shit. _

He considered what she had said just moments before she changed, Ginny was pureblood, she was underage and she was too young to be inducted into the Order. Which meant she didn't know anything worth questioning her for, unlike Hermione who would have been privy to Harry's plans. But she had revealed nothing the entire time he had been questioning her, except once when she mentioned that she was going home for the winter. The death eaters had located her parents in muggle London fairly easily, their spies following a bushy haired girl from Platform 9 3/4. But upon arriving in the front yard, the girl had cleverly snuck into the basement and vanished. So where was the real Hermione Granger?

Ginny Weasley had made it public knowledge that she was following Dean Thomas home to Scotland for the winter holidays at the Platform, her mother had dragged her into a heated conversation over the matter before eventually submitting to her passionate daughter. Weasley had bumped into him as she passed by, her face alight with victory and he had seen her go off himself. But then the next day, his father had told him that he saw Arthur with his 'obscenely red-headed' daughter in Gringotts withdrawing money. But how could Ginny be in Scotland and in London simultaneously.

The answer was obvious, she couldn't. Which meant that Hermione had been masquerading as Ginny Weasley for an extended period of time. But what was key? Where was all this leading? Why the subterfuge? What could she do as Ginny Weasley that she couldn't do as Hermione Granger? Why didn't she know anything when he questioned her, she fought, she resisted the imperious curse but on those odd moments when he broke through she had nothing to say?

Nothing consequential, unless she was not part of Dumbledore's plan. Which meant she was doing something else. Even he knew that you didn't waste a mind like hers. Granger may have been a mudblood, but she was quicker than most purebloods on a Sunday and twice as quick on a Monday.

He looked at her again interest. She wasn't identical which meant it wasn't Polyjuice. Additionally she hadn't drunk anything. But she had transformed without a wand.

But she was muggleborn, so she couldn't be a metaphormagus. A wand was tantamount in performing magic. But she hadn't used one. So how had she done it? He settled his questions for later, but she had transformed herself for a reason.

Which he still had yet to discover.

She stilled as a familiar rattling echoed through the cell. She glanced back at him but he looked at her blankly, shaking his head. He saw her visibly shrink and for the first time in a long time, he saw her scared, completely and utterly lost, but then it was gone. And she was stone faced as their captor appeared, his skinny fingers, miles in length, caressed her hair. She shivered but maintained her composure.

Draco felt tendrils of annoyance whisper at him. He was trying to think here and all this noise wasn't helping. He needed some peace an quiet, he almost didn't care if the man took Granger with him.

He shook his head in an attempt to block out the noise but it was unsuccessful. He looked up at Granger who looked too much like a little girl whose puppy had been stolen. It was bizarre, he was so used to seeing her uptight and righteous, to see her so defeated made him feel almost...protective? No that wasn't it, he vehemently denied, it was more...possessive she was _his_ responsibility. To torture, to question, etc. He vaguely noticed that she was casting furtive glances in his direction and he have her a nod in response feeling like he ought to acknowledge them, after all she was supposed to think she was on his side and he was just going along with all this. He couldn't tell if she wanted him to do something or whether she was just checking to see if she had gotten it yet.

The man tugged at her again and she visibly recoiled as his spidery fingers cupped her face, pulling her towards him. Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, just because he didn't like Granger, didn't mean he wanted to see this.

"Get your hands off me." She ground out and he was impressed at the stillness in her voice, she barely sounded disturbed.

"But you are no longer so dirty now, are you? I can touch you all the more freely." He grabbed at her neck, pulling her up in a sharp motion, his face pressed to her hair.

"It's startling, you can barely discern the difference, between our kind and theirs. She even smells the same."

He flashed his eyes to Draco who maintained his gaze on the floor, he didn't really feel like playing along right then. The man seemed to sense his mutiny because he let out a deep breath before speaking again.

"Draco you will be rewarded for your...accomplishments, but your task is not complete." He took a glance at Hermione as he said that and predictably she let out a cry of surprise and shock, looking over to Draco in hatred and hurt.

It was a fairly incredible performance, if he was in the state of mind to notice. Instead he shuffled his feet and tried to look ashamed or contemplative or whatever the hell the man wanted him to look like.

"Oh, did you think Draco here was on your side?" He cooed, all sympathy and murder. " How quaint." He saw Hermione look at the man in quiet calculation, she threw a scrutinizing gaze over at Draco and he felt like she could see through him, that just for a second she lost all the faith that she had in him.

He didn't look at Hermione again. What was it that he had was talking about, some rot about accomplishments...

_Accomplishments_.

Suddenly he felt like he was very close to something. He didn't know what, but accomplishments sounded right. He looked at her, his eyes combing her form. Hermione Granger was nothing without her accomplishments.

It wasn't who she was; it was what she'd _done._

But what had she done?

His feet itched to pace and his fingers clenched. He needed more time.

" Now I must ask one teeny, tiny favor from you before you can leave." That damned voice broke his concentration and he felt the strands of the oncoming epiphany drift away from him. He tried, he tried so hard but they were gone and he was left, once more in the dark.

But he felt renewed hope; he had an idea of what she wanted him to guess at now. He would figure it out, he would. But now was the time to pay attention. Carelessness was nothing short of deadly when it came to death eaters, and they were in the hive.

"What?" He questioned dully, attempting to keep his newfound discovery out of his voice. Hermione was motionless, her eyes trained on him but she showed no signs of panic which was surprising, or enlightening, he thought to himself. She expected this favor then. So she knew he would be asked to do something, something that pertained to her transformation. He kicked the dirt at his feet.

He was so close to discerning the truth, but it was evading him still. He took inventory, what did he know? He knew that the thin man wanted him to pretend that he was befriending Granger to get her to reveal her secrets. Check. He knew that Granger thought he befriended her and gave up her secrets. Check.

So now he was meant to do something that they both seemed to want him to do.

"Tut-tut, all in good time." He laughed then, full-bodied and manipulative before latching a collar onto Hermione's neck, and dragging her by a rusting iron chain.

"This would have been more appropriate before you revealed yourself I suppose, but no matter, I was not expecting Draco to succeed so quickly." He smiled ironically back at Draco before beckoning him forward with a curled forefinger. The tips were painted blood red.

Or, Draco, thought himself queasily, perhaps it was just blood.

_Fuck you, and fuck your nail polish. _He intoned in his head, taking a breath to steady his stomach, he'd never done very well with blood.

"Quickly now, we mustn't keep Him waiting."

At this, Hermione stilled. And suddenly thrust her head back, looking at Draco with dread. Her cinnamon eyes bore into his and she glared at him, before the look turned pleading. For the first time, she looked nervous.

Which only served to quadruple his own anxiety.

The thought struck him like he'd walked into a wall. Of course.

She needed him to confirm that she wasn't Ginny Weasley.

He looked at her again and then she flickered back to normal and for a second he almost stopped in his tracks, in that second she had flickered back to Hermione Granger.

But then she was back to looking like the Weasley.

He wanted to break something; he want to curse her, anything that would make this mind-numbing lack of understanding go away. Nothing was making any _fucking_ sense.

What did he know? He knew they were about to face a room full of fucking death eaters and the Dark Lord himself and he was supposed to lie. They wouldn't question him but if he lied, they'd kill him without a second though.

Damn it. Not helping. _Okay_ _think_, _what do you know?_

He knew she was Hermione Granger but she looked a hell of a lot like Weasley.

Because he knew who she was.

But what if he didn't, what if he believed that she was Ginny Weasley.

He thought back to what he knew, she had been about to explain but she asked if anyone was watching, or listening. He remembered her frustration with his responses.

But suppose she didn't want him to answer her questions. Suppose he was meant to watch what she was doing. She wasn't asking questions, she was giving him clues!

_Granger, you stupid tart, this was not the time to tiptoe through the daisies. When you're about to die you give people facts, not fucking hieroglyphs in the sand. _

_Idiot_, he thought in her direction, but her head was resolutely down. He briefly thought about saying it out loud but then reconsidered as he remember where he was. What he was about to do. But it was startlingly simple, the death eaters wanted him to say she was Ginny Weasley, Granger wanted him to say she was Ginny Weasley.

He felt like he'd won the lottery, not that he needed the money, but the metaphor held. He didn't know what Snape was complaining about, this two-sided shit was easy as pie.

He looked up again and he saw her wavering again, he had to stop thinking of her as she was but as what she needed to be.

If he believed he was seeing Ginny Weasley and he heard Ginny's voice, the transformation would complete itself.

He looked at her again and pictured Ginny Weasley before him but she was still there, those stupid little discrepancies were still fucking there.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, he remembered what Hermione sounded like and removed it from his head, and then imagined Ginny Weasley's voice and her disgustingly orange hair that couldn't possibly be real and her annoying tendency to follow Potter around. He looked up quickly, without pausing to think about what he was going to see, he just went on instinct and there she was.

Ginny _fucking_ Weasley.

Granger, _what have you done? _Because of course, Hermione Granger had just eliminated the moral cause of the Dark Side, blood was now in the eye of the beholder. Superiority was going to be fucking hard to establish when every other pure blood was actually a mudblood in disguise, assuming of course that people other than Granger could do this. He took a furtive glance at the man, he looked so familiar but Draco still couldn't put his finger on it.

He suddenly felt very displaced. Who else was playing her game?

The dark corridors were lit with giant wooden sconces that were placed every ten feet or so. The man before him paused before muttering a quick incantation and the lights in the hall way flickered and died. It pitch black and Draco scratched his neck uncomfortably. He shifted his feet, reaching to his side and let out a breath of relief as the comforting solidity of the limestone beside him met his fingers. He leaned surreptitiously against the wall.

Then as his eyes adjusted he noticed that it was not quite as dark as it had seemed, there was a slim beam of flickering orange streaming out of the floor, the junction where the wall met the floor to be exact.

They had, it appeared, arrived.

_Well, fuck me,_ he thought to himself wryly, _here goes nothing. _


	12. Waste

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: Sorry it's a bit late guys but hopefully you enjoy the next bit! I'm going off on holiday for a month but I'll be updating once I get back again, you're incredible if you're still reading this. I'm determined to finish it!

I've even written the ending and if you're keeping track, there's only one more day until we're back into the present and y'all get to see the wrap up. Thanks for reading and do review, you know you want to. ;)

**Chapter 12: Waste**

The large stone chamber spread out massively before them where an archaic courtroom of sorts was set up. Upon a wooden alter rising up from the center of the room was a wicker mat with a small metal hoop laid out in front of it.

Hermione felt her neck scream in protest as the rusted ring pulled against her skin, their captor dragging her forward without much consideration.

The crowd was faceless, just legions of black hoods, their true identities hidden within shadow.

Hermione kept her head low and focused on the spell, it took a great deal of energy to maintain without a wand but she had been practicing for months for this. It was simple, because the spell did not originate form her own powers but rather those around her, which is why only those with wands would see her as Ginny Weasley.

It had taken her almost the full year to perfect this and it was only late at night that she could practice when so many at Hogwarts had wands. But somehow, someone had figured her out.

She had been careful practicing with Professor Flitwick, her hands behind her as she willed his wand to cast the charm upon her, so that he would see her not as she was but who he believed she would be. They had not yet tested it on another human victim until her experiment just a few hours prior. Thankfully it was a success but she was about to see how it would work on a grander scale. The room was filled with sentient beings, each bearing a wand, but it was not difficult to expand the spell just to begin it. Which is why it was so crucial that Malfoy had a wand at the beginning. That's how she knew it would work.

He was helping her more than he realized.

The floor rose up before her and shakily she made her way up the rickety stairs before her, seating herself on the mat. The chain around her neck was fasted to the ring on the ground and she stilled. There was nothing she could do, it was all Malfoy now.

If he denied her then it would all be over, they had to believe she was Ginny Weasley to allow the spell to succeed. Almost as an after thought she considered that any one of them letting their wands leave their person would also be freed from the enchantment but in battle, here in the very hearth of the dark side, separation from one's wand was like separation from one's head, it was death.

She knew that Ginny Weasley wouldn't be killed here, because even the Death Eaters were aware of how Harry felt about the youngest Weasley; she was far to valuable for mortal death, oh no, they'd use her as collateral. It wouldn't go as far as that of course, Hermione just needed to live long enough to play out the rest of the plan.

A hooded man stepped over the gate that barred the Death Eaters from the center of the ring. The black fabric he donned swept the floor regally and she shuddered. It was about to begin.

"We are here for one reason, and one reason only." He bellowed but the masses were silent, stagnate; it was almost as if they were _dead_.

"This girl, masquerading as a mudblood, was taken from Hogwarts by Draco Malfoy. He has revealed to us her true identity. She in fact the Weasley girl, a _pureblood_." He spat the word as if it were a curse but there was once again no response. Hermione chanced a glance upwards but there were no faces visible through the shadows.

She'd just have to wait.

"She is also Harry Potter's greatest weakness." At this there was a rush of cloth and then pounding as feet began to beat against the floor in approval. It matched the pace of her heart perfectly and she letting out a gasping breath before closing her eyes before the rhythm could break her focus.

"I call Draco Malfoy to the stand." Silence as the voice cut through the noise, slicing it to it's sudden death.

Malfoy walked forward, his steps halting but his face was stony. He didn't look at her.

He knelt before the standing Death Eater, and stilled as a pale white hand crept out of the sleeve before him, gracing his neck. Hermione could see him shudder from here but he contained himself impressively fast.

The fingers turned into a grip and they yanked Malfoy to his feet.

"Well, boy?"

"As far as I can tell, the girl up there is…" He trailed off, looking at Hermione again and she met his gaze pleadingly. He nodded to himself.

"A Weasley," he paused.

With a breath, he continued, a wry smile on his face, playing his part to perfection.

"You can't fake that hair." The crowd jeered at this and Hermione felt herself starting to smile, which she quickly stomped out. He smirked at the crowd, enjoying the attention. The fire flickered over his hair, the sheer brilliance of the color cutting through her. His eyes were sharp though; they didn't mirror the amusement he was portraying with his words.

She had no idea if Malfoy was actually helping her. But as long as he played along, she didn't care. That was the beauty of this situation, she knew that what she wanted him to do and what he was expected to do were one.

But there was always that chance, that he was willing to risk his life to expose a truth he didn't know how to prove, in which case he would reveal her true identity. That was an option she had considered at great length but had determined it unlikely. But he was conflicted, she could read it in him, whether his words to her earlier were in jest or truth, he was conflicted because he didn't understand. And until he was sure he wouldn't risk his own life. He had never been impulsive without reason.

Still it was a relief that that portion was over.

"Wonderful." The hooded figure pulled back the cloth shading his face, revealing a silver mask. But the hair that spewed from the brim was unmistakable.

_Lucius Malfoy_.

So Malfoy wasn't lying when he said that his father was in on this. Hermione felt a rush of sympathy for him. Her life had been carefully nurtured by parents that were quirky but almost exploding with affection and support for her.

This was not a facet of human life she was often exposed to.

"Well done, indeed Draco. It seems my _talented_ son has finally done something right." The adjective came out with a sneer but Malfoy seemed unaffected.

He was staring determinedly at the floor. Lucius stepped over to him and Hermione saw his fingers reach over to grab his shoulder.

"You will look at me when I talk to you." The words were acidic and she felt the bitterness in them but Malfoy continued to look unperturbed.

He turned to his father, knocking the hand on his shoulder off before kneeling.

"My _apologies_." The words were insincere but his voice was unaffected as ever.

Lucius looked furious, his hand snapped back faster than Hermione could follow it and Malfoy's hand was suddenly over his cheek, an angry red blossoming underneath his fingers.

The courtroom was silent.

"You will not embarrass me again." It was whispered but the words cut through the quiet of the stone atrium like an unforgivable curse. No one had missed it.

Malfoy stood; she could see him seething from here, his hands gripped into tight fists and his posture rigid.

His father stepped back and faced the crowd before addressing them.

"My son will escort _her_ back to the dungeon and tomorrow we will present her to the Dark Lord." Upon the mention of His name, the Death Eaters raised their palms and caressed their individual markings that tied them to their cause. It was an eerily beautiful symphony of movement, in perfect unison accompanied only by the whispers of cloth brushing against flesh.

She felt Malfoy walk up to the platform and pull the chain off the ring and she hastily stumbled down the stairs, as he didn't seem to be in a mood to wait for her.

The hoods followed her as she walked and she felt their gaze, penetrating through her mask and she felt herself falter.

_They can't see me_. She reminded herself. Still she couldn't help but chance a glance backwards but there were no faces just darkness.

The jeering started and for a second she felt it slip but she focused steely and kept walking. Malfoy in an unthinking gesture of gallantry paused at the door before allowing her to go first.

She saw him turn back once before bowing slightly to the crowd, his eyes never leaving his fathers'.

They went out into the hallway and then headed towards the dungeon at an agonizingly slow pace.

Malfoy was breathing harshly but his fingers maintained fists at his sides.

He passed under a torch and for a second she thought she saw the glimmer of water on his cheeks but she ignored it. Averting her gaze, knowing that any sort of sympathy would probably get her killed.

He was silent, only his rapid exhales breaking through the quiet that shrouded them.

The guard at the door nodded before opening it and then closing it after Malfoy who dropped the chain like it was burning him and retreated to the corner. He leaned against the corner and tilted his head back, eyes cast firmly on the ceiling.

Hermione felt torn, part of her felt that instinct to go comfort the boy who was obviously affected by that abusive display but on the other hand, this wasn't Ron or Harry, this was the boy that had tormented them at Hogwarts and was well on his way to becoming a Death Eater.

She took a step forward.

"If you don't want to die, _mudblood_, you'll stay on your own _fucking_ side." His voice was hoarse and low, tinged with outrage. It was said quietly but the suddenness and the furor in his voice made it seem like he was screaming at her.

She took another step forward. This was stupid, incredibly stupid but she couldn't leave him, not like this. She had to _try_. He had risked a great deal for her whether he knew it or not, she couldn't abandon him now.

"It's like you want to get hurt." The sarcasm in his words twisted into fury as she took another step but he sounded exhausted.

And then suddenly she was right in front of him and the watery tracks on his face were clear in the light that pervaded their tiny cell.

He was looking determinedly away from her.

"Mal- Draco, I just-"

"What? _What_ could you possibly have to say? It's _okay_, are you going to tell me that it's _fucking _okay and that I can't let my father win. That I have to be _strong_?"

Hermione faltered, he obviously needed to vent somehow.

"Well save your breath, because I don't _care_ about that, _that_ was _nothing_." His voice was quiet then and she heard him take a breath, and then another one slightly quicker.

He screwed his eyes shut.

The handprint on his face was vibrant and she wished she could heal him, but she had no wand and besides touching him was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She had no doubt that he would actually hurt her then.

"Get the hell away from me." He finished, his tone subdued but still furious. He was almost beautiful, sad and desperate though he was. The black robes draped over him lovingly, no doubt tailored perfectly for him, the material as expensive as it was dark.

His hair stood out in brilliant contrast, the strands falling across his face. His eyes, when he finally opened them and looked at her, were slightly misted, but the gray piercing through like a knife.

He was anger and misery entwined in one petulant, princely bundle.

"I just wanted to thank you." She said quietly.

He chuckled darkly at that.

"You're _welcome._"

She waited, for something more and she wasn't disappointed.

"But if you think I did that for you, then you're stupider than I though you were."

"I didn't." She breathed and gingerly placed a hand on his arm. He stilled.

This was the moment, she thought to herself, this was the moment when he'd see that there was more to life than abusive father's and damning expectations. He'd understand.

"Don't touch me, _mudblood_."

Or not.

She hated it that word, she _hated _ but there was less of an edge to his voice, she was sure of it. Still, she withdrew her hand, there was no reason to tempt fate.

"I'm sorry." She whispered it, leaning in slightly, desperate to break through to him; she was so close.

He looked up at her, seemingly just realizing how close she was getting because he scowled at her, before moving his mouth just over the tip of her ear.

"Granger, I don't need your _pity_." She feel his heated breath just before he flipped her around, his fingers resting precariously over her collarbone.

He pressed into the delicate flesh, and she shivered at the sensation of the calloused tips of his fingers tracing the curve of her neck lightly.

He pushed her back against the wall and she pressed herself up on her toes, gaining an inch or two but Malfoy still towered over her, the top of her head barely brushing his chin.

He leaned down, meeting her eyes and she recoiled slightly at the vicious disgust in them.

"It's funny," he began, he's thumb making absentminded circles against her neck and she felt her knees weaken, but she grit her teeth determined not to give in.

"As a Weasley you're almost decent to look at, unfortunately for me, I'm not into the _believing_ mood right now." He sneered and she felt warmth stirring low in her stomach. She felt almost proud, he'd figured out part of it. It wasn't so simple, not anyone would have pieced even that much together with the slight hints she had placed.

Oddly she didn't mind his fingers anymore, and as he drew closer and his voice dropped deeper she barely restrained herself from leaning in.

She let go of her concentration, the enchantment wavered for a moment before flickering out. Whatever happened now he would see her as she was. She met his gaze with determination.

"We can help you, I'll take you to Dumbledore-" His fingers tightened and she felt the light touch turn instantly malicious as he pressed into her jugular. Her breath caught as she fought to keep her eyes on him. She wouldn't give into his tricks.

"And _what_ makes you think I would want to do that?" He was dangerously close now, his breath brushing her lips and she felt charged with a strange sort of electricity, her heart racing.

"Because, you're not as _bad_ as you pretend to be, _Draco._" She said his name quietly with firm emphasis, but he was focused on her lips.

The pressure on her neck lightened almost imperceptibly as his other hand came up to trace her bottom lip. She shivered hard as his thumb brushed against the sensitive skin there and he pulled it down ever so slightly.

"Such a _waste_." He muttered, almost ignoring her, and then she felt the hand on her neck slide back, his fingers possessively gripping the base of her head and tilting her up to meet him.

He drew closer still until he was a hair's breadth away from touching her, his hands the only point of contact between them.

She could barely stand it, he was so close, she fought against his hands to meet him, nothing mattered then except that she get a taste of what was so close to her but he was too strong, she couldn't breach the _centimeters_ between them.

He was opulent in this light, his hair splayed across his face, the tendrils appearing baby soft and impossibly white. Her fingers ached to push them away from his face but she kept them clenched by her sides, unwilling to touch him, unsure if she wanted to stop him or encourage him.

He breathed over her, and then released all his pent up frustration as he slammed her against he wall, lifting her in one swift movement and grinding his hips into her.

She felt her vision sway at the sudden impact but his mouth was still just seconds away from hers, the air from his lips heating her own. She could see deeper into his charcoal eyes that ever before and they were a dizzyingly gunmetal gray turbulent with lust.

His hands were against her neck and while hers were still firmly at her side.

He was stagnate though, unwilling it seemed to cross the barrier between them. But, Hermione thought to herself, she was all about breaking down boundaries.

She placed her hands against the back of his head and wrapped her fingers into the luxurious waves of hair and then pulled him against her.


End file.
